Reunion
by softer
Summary: An invitation, an even, and a date. Well, a non-date.
1. An invitation

**We meet again. This is a story I'm working/have been working on, just a little something I whipped up. **  
**It's actually a response to a prompt I saw _forever _ago. I don't know if it's going to go anywhere, so please drop a line and let me know if I should continue!**

**I would include a synopsis, because I feel like the title could go so many different directions, but it will be more fun if you read and find out :D**

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Kate Beckett sat at her desk, almost hidden by the large stack of paperwork that cluttered it, filing all sorts of that monotonous case work. Ryan walked past, just noticing his bosses arrival, greeting her with a nod. She smiled her hello and was about to continue her work when he stopped short, a bright splash of color amongst the boring white papers catching his eye. It was the corner of a colorful card, poking out from underneath the mountains of procedural paper. He pulled at it, unearthing the card, opening it to reveal an invitation. "What's this?" He asked, loudly, as to draw Kate's, as well as Esposito's, attention. She just noticed what he was doing, and immediately she felt the blood rushing to her face. She tried to snatch it from him, but he was too quick, raising the card above his head and out of her reach. "You have been invited," he read aloud from the curly script writing of the card. "To Eleanor Roosevelt High School's ten year Reunion, on the 6th of March."

"Give it back," Kate demanded, making another lunge for the invitation. Anticipating her move, Ryan once again moved it from her reach.

"Are you going to go?" he asked, curiously.

"I'm still thinking about it," she told him, even though she was certain she would not.

"You should," he told her.

"I don't have a date," she admitted, making up the first reason she could think of. It was true, she didn't.

"Who needs a date?" Ryan reasoned.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Alright, you have a point," Ryan's brow furrowed in concentration. "Espo can take you!" A glimmer of hope shined in Kate's eyes as she looked towards Javier. That was a good plan. He was too much like the protective brother to think it was a date, and nice enough to convince people otherwise. Besides, he owed her. But just as she looked his way, she saw him shake his head.

"No can do, bro," he wore and expression of apology. "Got plans."

"Well what about you?" Kate turned to Ryan, more hope in her voice than she meant to.

"I have a date, actually," He told her, his eyes softening in genuine regret. "Sorry," he offered, coupled with a sheepish smile. She sighed and took back the card, spinning around in her chair only to be greeted by Castle, sitting in his self-proclaimed seat, incredibly close. She jumped visibly in her seat, taken aback by his presence. She hadn't heard him arrive.

"Luckily, I'm free," he informed her, his childish grin oozing a charm uniquely his.

"First of all," she began, not even mildly impressed, "That was freakishly quiet- I didn't know you did quiet. Secondly, no thank you."

"Why not?" There was a slight whine in his voice. "You need a date, I happen to be free. I'm simply trying to be a good friend," He put on the innocent puppy face he used to get what he wanted.

"Because, Castle…" She combed her brain for a good reason, but drew a blank. "Because…" Castle seemed to sense her folding resolve.

"It's one night, just as friends, and I promise to be good and make you look fantastic," He swore. She studied his face for a heavy moment, deciding on whether to believe him or not. She concluded his face told a tale of honesty, and smiled.

"Fine," the single utterance made the man's face light up like a child's on Christmas morning, before she even got to her second clause. "_But _it's _not _a date. That means no flowers, no flashy things, no holding hands, and minimal PDA. Got it?" If he heard a word of it, she couldn't tell, for he merely nodded before she even finished and leapt up the second she was done.

"Great, fabulous, I'm going to go get things together," he excused, lamely, not even trying to hid his giddiness at the idea of Beckett and him on a…non-date. Just before he left the 12th precinct, he shouted out to Ryan. "What day did you say it was?" Beckett just rolled her eyes as Ryan read off the date, trying to be annoyed by his antics. The 6th was on Saturday- tomorrow, she realized. Shit. She hadn't planned on going at all, so she hadn't thought to pick out a dress. What would she wear? According to Lanie, she didn't own anything remotely acceptable for public show. Lanie. She would know what to do. And before her thought was even complete, she had her phone to her ear, her best friend's voice greeting her.

"Parish," She said, her nine-to-five greeting rolling off her tongue automatically.

"Lanie?" Kate asked, biting her lip.

"Hey girl, what's up? I don't have a body down here of yours, and I would be the first one to know if you gotta fresh stiff, so spill it, and please dear lord tell me its personal," she spit out so fast Kate barely registered it all.

"I need your help."

* * *

Rick Castle was looking through the women's department at Bargello's, sifting through the pricey, flashy dresses to find the perfect one for Kate. It was the second time he'd had the honor of find a dress for her, the second time it was without her consent, but the first time it was for an actual date. Well, a non-date, but to Rick, it was totally a date. He tossed aside the sequined outfits and the over-the-top printed ones, in search for something more…Kate. More real, more reasonable. None of that flashy, ostentatious stuff for her, no. It needed to be simple but elegant. Subtle but stunning. He was just about to give up his quest when a hint of deep red caught his eye. He smiled at how perfect the dress fit his checklist, how perfect it would look on her.

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Kate was fumbling around in her closet, hopelessly racking its contents for a suitable dress to the ambience of Lanie's disapproving 'tut's. Déjà vu struck her and she realized it had been far too many times she had been in this position. Just a few weeks ago it was nearly the exact scenario. Except that was work, and this was…what was this? Not a date. She signed, haplessly, dropping backwards onto her bed beside her friend, who sat, patiently waiting. "This is so _annoying." _She muttered, more to herself than Lanie, but of course, she got a cheeky answer from her anyways.

"It would be a whole lot easier if you just admit you like him." Kate stifled the urge to tell her friend to shut up and sat up straight.

"I do _not _like him," she said, her comeback falling short of her usual standards. It was easier to bite back when it was the truth, and of all people, Lanie could tell when she was full of it.

"Bull. Now let me call him up and ask him to pick you out a dress," she whipped out her cell phone and began to dial, but before the call could be complete, Kate snatched the phone from her hand.

"That is not even sort of funny," she said, pointing.

"Fine, you can just wear that God-awful pink thing with the sequins," Lanie declared, standing up to leave. "Let me know how the reunion goes!" She called behind her as she opened the front door. Just as she was about to leave, she stopped short. "Uh, Kate?" she called back, a slight hesitance in her voice.

"Hmm?" Kate asked, entering the living room to see what Lanie stumbled upon. The petite woman was holding a large box, with Bargello's written in script letters across the top. "Oh, he didn't."

"It sure as hell looks like he did," Lanie countered, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. "Open it, let's see it!" Deep within her a girl longed to squeal. Kate accepted the box and slit the tape holding it closed, setting it down to pull out the beautiful crimson dress. It was long and elegant, with a plunging neckline and a back that was practically non-existent. It took all of her self control not to let out a gasp at its beauty, but Lanie didn't hold one back.

"Oh my God, girl! The man has class, who would have thunk it? Now go! Go try it on!" Kate felt herself being ushered into her own bedroom, dress in hand, the door closing with a click behind her. With nothing to do but oblige, she did just that, dropping her tank top and sweats to slip the shear dress on. It fell to her curves perfectly, accentuating every one of them. It couldn't have fit better if he had tried, she noted, silently, spinning in front of her mirror. The neckline was a large 'V', tying up behind her neck and diverging into separate pieces low on her chest. It left very little to the imagination for Kate, but she was known for her slightly conservative view of her own body. Nevertheless it made her feel good- it made her feel sexy. She pinned her hair up in a clip, lazily, trying out the look. She decided she liked it, and went to reveal it to Lanie.

"Oh my God!" the small woman gasped again when she saw her friend. "You look _damn _hot. Not only does the man have class, but he has taste- I mean, he's smitten for you, so you know he has taste, but this? Oh God, Kate, it's gorgeous. Simply gorgeous."

"You think?" Kate bit her lip, subconsciously, teasing at the waist of the garment.

"I know girl. Castle is going to have to surgically re-attach his jaw when he sees you in that. Stunning," she muttered one last time before pushing her back into the bedroom. "Now let's talk hair. I'm digging the up-do, you work that, but let me see if I can help- do you have any more of those hair clips?"

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**Soooooo?**

**Click that pretty button and leave your thoughts- I'm a _very _good listener....reader.**


	2. seeing green

**AN: Chapter two- extra long for you guys :)**

The next evening, Castle arrived at Beckett's apartment. He had picked out his smartest suit- a dark, Italian thing with a dark red shirt to compliment Kate's dress and a tie to match. He'd made it all the way to her apartment, he'd stopped by the floral shop by his home and bought her a bouquet, even though she told him not to. He was beginning to regret that now. What if she yelled at him? What if…oh no, she wasn't bringing her gun, was she? He shouldn't have gotten her flowers. Definitely not the 12 red roses he held. This was a bad idea. He couldn't bring himself to knock. Why? It was just a door. A standard, painted, cheap door, with the numbers 412 plated in brass. Katherine Beckett's door. He raised his hand to knock, before pausing, loosing nerve, and dropping it by his side. This sad, sad routine carried on at least minutes longer before he actually followed through, and when his fist hit the wood, there was no turning back. He stood up straighter, tried to wipe the sweat off his moist palms, and did his best to hide behind the dozen of red flowers. He heard the door swing open, accompanied by the flooding of a soft yellow light and the faint scent of a blossoming cherry orchard. "Castle," he heard the almost nervous voice of Beckett. He tried to read it, and without the sight of her expression to mirror the infliction in her tone, it was hard to place, but could it be? Was she amused? Yes, there was definitely the imposition of a smile in that silky voice. He poked his head from behind the roses, quite bravely, he thought. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. She stood before him, only a sliver of her revealed apartment as her backdrop, simply stunning in the dress he purchased a mere day ago. If he thought it was beautiful on the plastic hangar, God it was gorgeous on her. It fell to fit every curve, every defined line of her body as if the seamstress had made it uniquely for her. He gaped in amazement.

"Beckett. You look…." He grasped at the air for the right words, but for the first time in his life, words alluded him. "Breathtaking would be an understatement," he settled, unimpressed with his lack of creative adjectives. One of her fine eyebrows reached the arch it so often loved to perch in, high on her brow.

"I said no flowers," she said, trying to feign annoyance but too pleased to be convincing. Instead she just smiled one of those award winning smiles and accepted the bouquet, taking it inside to set it in a vase. Once she grabbed her hand bag and her invitation, she rejoined Castle at her front door. He offered his crooked arm out to her, always the gentlemen, and much to his pleasure, she accepted it, slipping her thin arm around his and letting him lead her to the city streets.

They arrived to the party just in time. The reunion was being held at the Sheraton New York, one of the nicer hotels in Manhattan, just off 53rd and 7th. It was large and the hall was filled with people, meeting, catching up, sharing one too many drinks at the open bar. There was a small stage with a neat little microphone set up, for the no doubt embarrassing walk down memory lane that would inevitably ensue- as they always did at these kind of events. At the front entrance they received name tags and badges, as well as a list of people attending. The whole thing was very formal, and all Kate's fears of being over-dressed flew out the window, although she did have one of the nicest ones there. Before the pair could dive into the thick throng of mingling adults, though, Kate pulled Castle aside. "Please, please don't make me regret bringing you," she began. If he only thought she was nervous before, he could be sure of it now. She was biting her lip in that adorable way, teasing at a loose strand of hair Lanie had previously strategically pulled from the French bun on her head.

"Kate, your assumptions hurt," Rick pretended to be offended. "I wouldn't dream of such a thing." Her smile was whole-hearted but weak with nerves, and he understood why. His first reunion was nerve-wracking, to say the least, and that was before he was on the New York Times Bestseller List. He didn't have to imagine what she was going through. He was overcome with an urge to make the evening flow smoothly, and began by taking her arm. "I can't make you look good as we huddle in the dark corners of the ballroom," he told her, "people may get the wrong idea." Kate once again rolled her eyes but let him lead her onto the floor.

She was assaulted with familiar faces and memories that married them, the stereotypical few, the quarterback, the cheerleader, the homecoming queen, the nerd, that quite girl that wore sweaters even in the summer. All these people and more, all waging war on her cerebral cortex, all demanding the forefront of her attention. Many recognized her, many called to her, some started a conversation. It was the same old questions: what do you do now, how's life treating you, what_ever_ did you do after school? And of course the most popular one of the evening: How _ever _did you meet, let alone date, Richard Castle?

Too quickly he became the topic of conversation, mostly with the women. How did they meet, how long were they dating- and then, once any misconceptions were cleared up- His muse? Well how did that happen, and then famously, can I get your number? Castle declined to all of them, politely, much to Kate's relief. Relief? Why was she feeling relief? More importantly, why was she feeling a pang in her stomach every time someone asked him?

As the evening moved on, she got tired of explaining the complexities of their relationship, so she just sort of went with it when they assumed they were dating. _Whatever, _Kate thought. _It's not like I will be seeing any of them anytime soon. _Rick was the perfect company, too. As much as she worried about him making a fool out of both of them, he was quite the escort. He was his usual, charming, funny self, but with an extra filter he usually kept off. He was a brilliant actor, Kate decided, playing the role of doting boyfriend very well. He kept his hands on her but at a friendly level, never once straying, emitting an image of closeness but careful not to breech her personal space. He smiled, told jokes, excluding his 'vast arsenal of rapier wit.'

She was actually enjoying herself, she realized. Of course there were always those awkward moments- like when she ran into Jenny Crawford, a girl she decked in the tenth grade, or Brad Goldberg, an ex-boyfriend. Otherwise the evening went smoothly. That is at first.

Beckett excused herself from Rick's side to use the ladies room, in which she did everything but actually use the bathroom. She checked her hair, her make-up, her dress. It still fell to her every curve. She smiled as she saw herself. She was having fun. She checked her cell phone for the time and was sad to see the late hour. It would all be over soon. He would drop her off at home, she would take off the dress, never to be worn again, and she would go to bed, alone. She would see him next week at the precinct, and life would go on as normal.

That is what she wanted, she told herself. When the thought wasn't enough to convince her, she said it aloud to her reflection in the mirror. "That _is _what I want," she said. She pretended to accept this, forcing herself to accept it. She patted her hair again, pushing it behind her ears out of habit and straightened her dress one last time before grabbing her bag and returning to the party. She traveled through the thick throng of people in search of her date.

Her non-date.

At long last she found him, and stopped short of approaching him. He was talking to a woman Kate vaguely remembered as Mellissa Jackson. The years had been kind to her, and the way Castle was laughing at what was obviously a joke ignited a spark deep within Kate. She watched as the woman touched his arm, leaving it there a second too long before accepting a drink Castle offered her. Something new raged through Kate- a foreign emotion taking control. What the hell was he doing? Couldn't he go anywhere without flirting with the first floozy to smile at him? The more she thought about it, the less she liked Mellissa. Now or in the past. No, if she remembered correctly, Mellissa was always taking what wasn't hers.

Wait. What wasn't hers? That couldn't be right. That wasn't what Kate meant to think. No, Castle was free game. She had no stake on him. He should be able to flirt with whomever he likes, she told herself. These realizations did nothing to sooth the jealousy that had overcome her. Jealousy? Is that what this felt like? She didn't like it. Not one bit. He _was _her date. Her non-date, as she was quick to remind him. Why did she say that? At the moment she couldn't remember precisely, but she was sure there was some sort of rational reason.

Rationality, she discovered, had no place among jealousy. There simply was no room.

She approached the bar coolly. She was no longer in control of her actions- the rational Kate had vacated, leaving a jealous woman behind. "Hey, KB," he greeted her, smiling at her return. "I just met your friend Mellissa here, she said you guys were pretty tight Senior year?" he placed a hand on her back, sending a small shock and shiver down her spine.

_If you could call a wave in the hallway every once and a while 'tight,' _she thought, bitterly to herself. She and Mellissa were never really all that close, she suspected she just wanted an in with Castle. "Yea," she said instead, smiling at the woman she so despised. "Mellissa, you look great! Whatever happened to you?"

"You know, did the college thing," Mellissa began what was going to be a ten minute monologue of her life's story. Her voice was just as Kate remembered it- loud, droning and obnoxious. Then again the jealous woman was remembering, not Kate in herself. Needless to say these judgments were clouded. "But hey-" she finally finished. "What about you? Rick here was just telling me about your career- you're a cop now?"

Rick? Kate's eyebrow shot up of its own accord. "Detective," she was quick to correct. Not that Mellissa paid any attention. She was more interested in 'Rick.' Kate wanted to get sick. At the way Mellissa was drooling all over Castle. The way Castle was grinning like a fool and flirting right back. The way _she _was acting. _What am I doing? _She asked herself, rational Kate regaining control. _Marking territory, _Irrational Kate told her. And then she pressed into Castle's side, an arm snaking around his waist.

Mellissa got the message at once. Irrational Kate had made her point and gotten her way. It took Mellissa a whole five seconds to excuse herself in search for the next poor, ringless man. Castle looked down at her, as she still was glued to his side. "What the hell was that about?" he asked her. She listened to his tone. Not anger, no. Surprise. Amusement? There was definitely amusement in there. But before either Rational Kate or Irrational Kate could answer, the loud rustlings of a microphone sounded, and the crowded ballroom fell silent. A small woman had assumed the stage and cleared her throat. Obviously announcements were about to be made. Kate, for no other reason than she was comfortable and he was warm, didn't release Castle when she turned to face the stage. The crowd sat in rapture.

"First of all," the woman began. "The owner of the silver mini-van out front, your lights are on," she said, reading from a note card. A loud shuffling sound from mid-crowd erupted as the owner pushed past people, aiming for the exit. "And now that that's taken care of, we can officially begin! I would first like to thank you all for coming out here- I know it's great to see all of these familiar faces! For those of you who don't remember me, I'm Liz Nealson, former class president. I want to kick off the evening with a slideshow, and then I have some superlatives to announce!" and with that, Liz Nealson stepped down from the stage, and photos put to sentimental music began to play.

******What do you think should happen next? It's all up in the air right now, so your reviews are instrumental to the plot! :)**

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	3. Goodnight

**An: so here is chapter three: I'm not so crazy about it, but oh well.**

**Please read, review, and be brutally honest. I can take it.**

**And for now: **

**Chapter Three: Goodnight**

"So for most likely to succeed," the woman on the stage continued, once again opening an ominous envelope. A moment of hesitation and what Kate assumed was supposed to be suspense cloaked the silent room. Why this always fascinated everyone, she didn't know. She thought it was stupid, and most of the time, quite humorous. "Max Hart!" she read, to a round of applause as Hart made his way towards the stage to accept the small little token- a basket of school gear, it looked like. He accepted the mic, like all the others before him, shouted out to some of his old buddies, threw in a comment about his wife and kids, and exited stage left.

"And for The Most Changed Award," she again took out another envelope. "Not to mention cutest date, Kate Beckett!" Her first reaction was surprise. Then 'of course, she had to throw a comment about Castle in there,' and then, more surprise as she felt a tugging on her arm. Before she could even register what was happening, Castle was pulling her along. It was then she realized he was pulling her towards the stage. She attempted to dig her heels into the ground, to no avow. Cursed heels. Before she knew it she was up the few stairs and being ushered across the stage. Shit. No. this was so not happening. Even as the gift basket was handed to her and the mic was shoved in her face she was denying it. It was not happening.

When a few long moments passed and she remained silent, Castle stepped up beside her, resting a hand on the other side of her waist and speaking into the mic. "Well _obviously _we weren't expecting this," he began, sending a ripple of laughter through the crowd. _We? _Kate asked herself, followed by _what the hell is he going to say? _She knew she wasn't going to be talking anytime soon. Somewhere along the journey to the stage she had lost her voice, and sound evaded her completely.

"At last, words came. "Th-Thank you," she began. _Did she _have _to make a speech?_ "I guess." _She guessed? She was making more a fool of herself then Castle. _""I guess I have the boys at the 12th to thank for this. And Richard Castle." _And Richard Castle? What in the hell possessed her to say that? Oh, he would never let her forget that. _But for the time being, he just smiled, gave her an unexpected peck on the cheek, and continued to make a shameless book-promotion into the mic before leading the stunned Kate, basket in hand, off the stage. Clapping ensued, and the awards continued.

"Richard Castle, huh?" he murmured into her ear as he led her along through the crowd. She barely heard what he had said, the feel of his hot breath on her face distracting.

"Shut up," she told him. And then: "Thanks."

"For what?

"Are you really going to make me say it?"

"No," he assured her, sensing the annoyance in her voice. "A drink?" he asked her. She nodded.

At the bar, he ordered a martini, she a glass of wine. It wasn't nearly as strong a drink as she needed, but she feared what the alcohol might bring out of her, since the perfectly sober Kate couldn't even seem to keep it together. "

"Are you having fun?" he asked her. He was looking at her in that way he did sometimes. She knew when she was under that observation lying would be futile. He would see right through it.

"Yea," she lied anyways. Why it was a lie she did not know. He was doing everything she asked and more- he was being the perfect gentleman. "I'm tired." The sound of music told them both the award ceremony was over, and Castle stood.

"Dance with me?" he asked her. To his dismay, she shook her head.

"I'm alright. I'm kind of tired," she admitted. She was, too.

"You sure? I'm a brilliant dancer," he wiggled his eyebrows. She knew this to be true, he was a fantastic dancer, but she still declined. "Alright then. Do you want to leave?" he asked her. It was only around 10, and he was just getting warmed up, she could tell. Again, she shook her head.

"No, no I'm fine. The bar is open and drinks are on the house, so I'm fine right where I am," she lied again. "You go, dance, have fun. I might catch up with you." He studied her only a moment longer before disappearing into the thick crowd that was inhabiting the dance floor. She watched him- dance alone, dance with a few different women, no one more than a few minutes. It was actually quite entertaining, and she had an idea that he was kind of showing off for her. She smiled to herself.

Then came_ her. _Mellissa again. Approached Castle, leaned in far too close for Kate's comfort, and whispered something. And then they began to dance. He kept his hands off of her, but she was all over him like a hormonal teenager sleeping her way through the male population. It made Kate want to barf. Instead, she watched them, a sick feeling boiling in the pit of her stomach, downing her glass of wine in one swig. She watched them, a look that could kill boring holes into both of their heads. The fast, upbeat dance music had faded away and was being replaced by a slower tune. Castle took a step back, and Mellissa looked confused. Kate had no doubt he saw her killing the woman with her eyes. Kate saw his stare and pulled off one of her finest eye rolls. He excused himself from a disappointed Mellissa and made his way to Kate. She took a newfound infatuation with the bottom of her now-empty wine glass as he approached.

He didn't ask.  
He knew there was no point.  
He simply took her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.

"Castle, what are you doing?" she asked.  
He said nothing.

Tom Baxter's smooth voice filled the room, and the slow jazz piece that accompanied him in the song. He faced her, he stepped closer, and he rested his hand safely on the small of her back, holding her hand out to the side with his other. She was surprised at his seriousness as they danced. She was pressed up against him and he held her impossibly close, his cheek resting against her temple. They danced slowly to the music, swaying in beautiful synchrony, and Kate closed her eyes, relishing the feeling. In his arms. She felt so safe. She felt loved.

Why was she thinking this? He practically dragged her out here.  
She hated him, remember?  
She was supposed to be hating him.  
He was making that increasingly hard.  
She felt herself being swept away, and for some odd reasons, the walls that protected her heart were fading into nothingness.

Castle held her as close as she (and physics) would allow, the feeling of her so irreplaceable. He never wanted the song to end. The whole time Mellissa was dancing he was sneaking glances at Kate. He had wanted to stop right then and pull her up with him, but he didn't want to be rude to poor Mellissa, who was practically throwing herself at him. Then she had leaned into him, breeching what little personal bubble he did own, whispering into his ear about leaving. He smiled at her, though it felt like more of a forced grimace, and declined, deciding it was the best place to excuse himself and get Kate.

That was all he had wanted all evening- a dance.  
He felt her lean into his body, relaxing a little more.  
That didn't hurt, either.

They continued to sway to the music, the beat picking up and dropping off, but they stayed glued to each other, neither wanting to part. She felt his lips moving on her temple, coupled with his voice, low and almost incoherent. Then it clicked: he was mumbling along the lyrics.

Too soon, the song was over.  
He hesitated maybe a moment too long to release her.  
She hesitated a moment too long to pull away.

"Thank you," she said, quietly, taking an interest in her shoes.

"The pleasure was all mine," he said back, equally as quiet.

What had just happened? She almost asked him this out loud, but refrained. Neither of them knew, but they both could tell something had.

"Want to go?" he asked her. She merely nodded. She bid farewell to those who waved as they made their way out and to the city streets. She shivered in the night air- her dress was beautiful, but wasn't exactly insulating. Castle knew if he gave her his jacket she would probably shoot him, so he compromised by wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his warm body for the third time that night. "Home?" he asked her.

For a fleeting second she wondered which one of their homes he meant- his or hers- but then all of a sudden she really didn't care. She just nodded again. They caught a cab and she was saddened to discover they were headed to her apartment.

Saddened?  
Relieved is what she meant to feel.

She sat on her side of the cab's backseat, a huge space between she and him, as he stuck to his side. She leaned against the door, resting her head on the cool glass of the window, letting the nights events play out in her head. What she wanted to do was scoot over and feel his body heat against hers again. She found herself missing that feeling.

What?  
No.  
She was happy where she was.  
She didn't need his coat or his arms or the feel of him beside her.  
She didn't need or want any of it.

The cab pulled up to her building.  
Would he get out? She asked.

He did.  
He went around to her side of the cab.  
Would he open the door?

He did.

The feminist in her rolled her eyes at him.  
The woman smiled despite herself at his chivalry.

He walked her up.  
Up.  
Up.  
They were at her door now.

For a non-date, it sure felt like a date, she thought to herself. He smiled at her, and she wondered who would speak first. She did.

"Thank you…for tonight," she told him, still quiet. He smiled at her.

"Anytime," he told her. She took out the keys to her apartment.  
She fiddled with said keys. Why couldn't she find the damn thing? When did she get so many keys? She swore she didn't have this many keys until now. She looked up, slightly embarrassed as she gave up trying to stall.

Irrational Kate was not in charge this time.  
No, now it was all Kate. She felt herself gravitating towards him. Why was she gravitating towards him? She decided she wanted to.

She saw him leaning in towards her.  
_Soon, there would be no more space_, something inside of her warned her. She didn't care.

She stood on her toes and tilting her face towards his, brushing her lips against his, lightly, carefully. They moved, slowly, taking their time. Her lips parted only slightly and the kiss deepened, just as slightly, her hands snaking their way around his neck, pulling him closer. Her body was pressed impossibly close to his once again, and she couldn't get over how good it felt.

How good he felt.  
The need for oxygen prompted her to pull away, and she did, still hovering by his lips.

"Goodnight," she said, her voice a barely audible whisper, hovering still another long heavy moment before sinking back down to her normal height.

"'Night," he responded, frozen, his feet sewn to the door step as he watched her slip inside her apartment.

* * *

**The song that plays when they dance is called 'Tell her today' by Tom Baxter.  
Brilliant song, I suggest you look it up. It screams Caskett, plus I imagine it's nice to dance to.**

**Thanks to Kathryn Mae Wilson MD, for the brilliant ideas  
And to LonLon, for the song, as well as fabulous conversation  
And of course to my reviewers.  
You lovely human beings. **

**So don't forget to msg me with any ideas you may have, I am open to anything ****  
For now, though, I have one question…  
How awkward do you think tomorrow at the precinct will be?**

**So here is where I beg for a review.  
You really are lovely. **


	4. First Names

**I am a machine. Pumping out another chapter. My strength is my resolve.  
Second 2000+ chapter in a day.  
Well it's not going to be uploaded tomorrow, but just know:  
I wrote it in a day.**

**So there is a tiny little FB, but it's marked by italics. I just hope I've managed to stay true to the characters **** So this chapter brings out something new I'm trying, it involves an actual murder case. Need your input desperately on this bit. Enjoy : **

**First Names**

Morning.  
It was morning at the precinct.

Kate arrived, the picture of punctuality, seating herself at her desk, setting down her cup of hot coffee. She turned on her computer, letting the machine warm up before attempting to use it, shaking the mouse frantically. She was never one for patience.

The bullpen was empty pardon herself- it was nearing six am and the world of the working had yet to arise. She didn't mind, it was quiet, not to mention dark, lit only by the dawn streaming in through the crummy windows. It was good for her thought process. Usually she loved the rush of the day, the frenzy the bullpen usually housed. But it was a nice change of pace to sit, cloaked only in a bluish light and peace.

Her computer decided it wanted to work today, and cooperated perfectly when she began her work. She tried to concentrate, she really did. But she was too preoccupied with the events of the evening before. The last night consumed her mind- took it over, so all she could do was play it over and over and over.

_She slipped into her apartment, the slightly stunned face Castle wore eliciting a grin. _That wasn't why she was grinning,_ some part of her told her. It was the same voice that was informing her in that matter-of-fact way that she heard earlier. The one that told her things she didn't want to know but needed to hear anyways. That voice. She shut the door, turning around and leaning against it, her eyes falling shut. Happy. She was smiling because she was happy. _What had she just done_? Part of her asked. _What the _hell_ had she just done?

_Whatever it was she had done,  
She decided that she didn't for a second regret it._

_She took her time getting out of the dress, not quite ready to take it off. When she finally did it was with great reluctance, as she showered and slipped into bed. Her hypothesis of the evening was partially correct: she was going to bed alone tonight. It was also partially incorrect. Things would most definitely not go back to normal._

Which brought her to her current dilemma.

A million questions raced through her mind.  
Would he show up today?  
Would he tell anyone what happened?  
Would _she _tell anyone what happened?  
Would he try to kiss her again?  
God, not at the precinct.

These things and more just like them whirled around, preventing her from getting any work done. Before she knew it, people were filtering in. Desks started filling up, lights were turned on, words were spoken, and the serenity was shattered.

All the same, the day began.

It wasn't until a few hours later, around 9 when Castle arrived. He strode in, two cups of coffee in his hand, plopping down in his familiar seat next to Beckett. "Good morning," he greeted. She eyed him carefully. He was acting normal enough. He offered one of the cups to her.

"I'm good," she said, shortly, nodding to her half-full coffee mug.

"Nonsense, that crap you insist so ardently on drinking is not coffee," he proceeded to take her mug, setting his cup in its place. "It's hot, and it is delicious- brought to you today by Dean and Deluca's." A small smile betrayed her as she gave in, sipping at the coffee.

He was right, it was delicious. She took a moment to enjoy it before forcing her eyes open and facing him.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Here to help on the case," He answered, simply.

"We don't have any open cases," she informed him, as if he didn't already know.

"Oh, you mean _here _here?" he asked, pointing to his chair. "I came to the precinct to check up on Karpowski's case. No, I'm _here _to see you," he informed her, equally as deprecatingly.

Again she sipped her coffee, this time to hide her smile.  
Her stealth did not fool him, but he was wise enough to say nothing.

Before she could whip back what was no doubt going to be a witty retort, Ryan walked up. "Beckett- we got a homicide on 44th and-" he stopped short. "Hey, Castle, what are you doing here?"

Castle just shrugged. "I like it here," and for Ryan, that was enough.

"44th and Lex- Epso and I will meet you two there? That is, if Castle plans to attend?"

"Consider this my RSVP," Castle told him, earning an eye roll from Beckett.

The crime scene was a bloody one- Castle discovered this as he stepped under the yellow tape, close behind Beckett. He watched her reaction, carefully.

Horror, at first.  
Then disgust.  
Anger.  
Fear.  
Sadness.  
Finally he saw sadness.

He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to comfort her.  
He refrained, instead 'accidentally' brushing up against her when he joined her at her side.

"Patrick Wayne," Esposito was reading off of a notepad. "Male, white, 32, lives alone here. Downstairs neighbor came up to feed his cat, found Mr. Wayne here around 9:36 this morning."

"Feed his cat?" Beckett asked.

"Apparently, Wayne was supposed to be out of town until Tuesday. The neighbor was supposed to feed the cat, take care of the mail, pick up the paper from the doorstep, etcetera," Esposito explained. Beckett nodded, tilting her head as she absorbed the crime scene.

"Door?" she asked, making her way in a full circle around the body.

"Unlocked," Esposito answered.

"And the paper?"

"What?" he asked, confused. Normally his boss's one-word questions were routine, but this one escaped him.

Beckett indicated to the coffee table, where a thick newspaper lay. "It's Sunday, and that's the Sunday 'Times,'" she told him. "Did the neighbor set it there?"

"No," he read over the witness statement. "Why?"Suddenly, she turned around to Castle.

"What time is your Sunday paper delivered?" she asked, her head still cocked to the side, a curious expression on her face.

"Six in the morning, without fail," he told her.

"You live about five blocks from here," she thought out loud. "And the paper plant closest is uptown so moving downtown…" he could practically see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of hers. Mental math happened- he could tell by the way she was furrowing her brows. "Our vic was alive this morning, and if my calculations are correct, he was alive at 6:20-ish. This gives us the beginning of a timeline," she announced. "I will talk to Lanie when she gets here, Ryan, I want you to talk to the head of security in the building- I want any and all camera footage. Espo- I need you to take the neighbors- I want this whole hall questioned, and you can get names from the neighbor that found him." Both Detectives nodded and hurried off, leaving Castle and Beckett alone to search the apartment. "I'll take stage left, you take stage right," she delegated.

They began the search, Castle starting in the living room and she in the kitchen, combing the place for any sign of who this man was, or why anyone would want him dead. "Hey Becks," Castle called, after a good fifteen minutes. She muted the smile that threatened to break at the nickname and peered over the counter separating them. He was sitting on the black futon, reading what looked like a book.

"What is it?

"C'mere," he beckoned, not looking up from his literature. She obliged, sitting down next to him on the futon, maybe a smidgen too close. He said nothing. "Look here," she was dangerously close as she leaned into him to see, her cheek hovering mere centimeters from his. The smell of cherries mixed with her Pantene shampoo and something uniquely hers assaulted his senses. He had to remind himself to speak.

"His calendar book?" she asked, her voice snapping him out of his reverie.

"Look under Saturday," he pointed. She did.

"It looks like he had a meeting with a John Marcus at 3 pm?" she asked, fingering the corner of the book.

"What is it with this case and names?" Castle asked, seemingly annoyed. "They all have two first names! John Marcus, Patrick Wayne,"

"Not to mention Kevin Ryan," Beckett allowed a snicker to escape her before turning serious. Before she could decide what to do with this new information, though, Lanie made her entrance.

"Hey girl, sorry I'm late. The Lincoln is backed up to Jersey, it's so bad out there," she gasped, practically dropping the heavy equipment she lugged up here. "Do you know the elevator is broken?" she asked. "I had to carry this crap up six flights of stairs," she informed them, exasperatedly. That was when she saw them sitting on the futon. "Honey," she said, all annoyance evaporated from her voice. "Is there something either of you would like to share with the class?" she asked.

"What are you talking about?" Kate asked, leaning away from Castle, as if that would fix the problem.

Oh, if looks could kill.  
When the proverbial eye daggers didn't work on either of them, she arched a brow at Kate, as if to say we _will _talk about this later. "Where's my stiff?" she asked aloud instead.

She was shown to the body, where she knelt beside the victim and her exam began. About a half an hour later, she called for Castle and Beckett. "You were right, Kate, based on liver temp I'd say poor Patrick here kicked it around 4-6 hours ago." Kate turned to Castle.

"If TOD is say, what? 7 at the latest? And he was awake to pick up his paper, putting out kill zone between six-thirty and 7…"again she trailed off, and again, mental math was occurring.

"Once I get Mr. Wayne on my table I can probably give you a better estimate," Lanie told her.

"I need a murder board," Kate concluded, breezing out of the room. Castle wheeled around to follow her, hot on her heels.

* * *

At the precinct they both sat, staring at the murder board. It was decorated with a multitude of colored marker residue and writing, as well as adorned with the contents of the case file and crime scene photos. Castle stood, leaning against the edge of her desk and Kate beside him, sitting on top of her desk, her arms crossed, brows stitched together. Night had fallen, the digital clock was glowing midnight and they were the only ones left in the bullpen, draping them in not only a yellow glow but a comfortable silence.

He reached out, placing an open hand on her shoulder, pulling her into him. She didn't protest, letting him rope her in, letting herself relax in his comforting hold. "How are you doing, KB? He asked her. She pulled away a little so she could look up.

"We need to talk," she told him.

"I know," he smiled, his thumb rubbing her arm up and down, soothingly.

"About last night-"

"Please don't tell me things are going to go back to normal," he said, quietly. She looked at him, sideways, confused.

"Normal?" she asked him.

"To how it was before. I don't want that, Kate. Let's take what happened last night and start from there."His words touched her heart. "I like you, a lot more than I could ever let you know. And don't say last night wasn't a date, that it didn't mean something, that that dance didn't mean something, that that kiss didn't mean something, cause it did. Mellissa is nobody to me. Other women- they're nobody. It's just you, Kate. It always has been."

She took a moment to process his speech before replying.

"How long did it take you to come up with that?" she murmured.

"All night, and maybe a little of today," he admitted. The air around them immediately lightened a little. "But?"

"I don't want things to go back to normal," she began, slowly, raking her brain for the right words. "But I'm not ready for… anything more?" it was a question. "I just…I need to think about things," she told him. "Let me get through this case, and then we can sit and talk about it?"He nodded.

"That's a good idea," he told her. "But for right now," he stood up straight and held out a hand. "It's midnight, neither of us has had a real meal, and I am exhausted. Let me get you a burger and drive you home," he said. She cracked one of the smiles she had been suppressing all day and slipped her hand in his, letting him pull her off the desk.

* * *

**What should happen now?  
It is up to you, the readers.  
You really do decide what happens, and how fast you get to read about it.  
Should I continue following the case, or should I ditch it and move the fluff along?**

**Your reviews are fantastic.  
And for that, I thank you.**

**Let's make it a positive trend, shall we?  
find out how by pressing the fabulous button below **


	5. Different

**Ew. Here we go. Not thrilled about this chapter, but I'm hoping you will like it a little more than me.  
I fear everything has gotten really serious, so next chapter will be lighter (and longer, hopefully).**

**Please be nice, read it, review it, pm me if you care to.**

**Self promotion warning: For those of you who didn't read Interrogation, I have a twitter account if you care to follow, I give updates on my stories, anecdotes of my life, and maybe the occasional spoilers. Go to my profile page for the link **** (and feel free to read interrogation!)**

**Also, shout outs: The review's and alerts and feedback I am getting is absolutely fabulous, I couldn't ask for better readers. I love you all, and your reviews are not only plentiful and encouraging but of the greatest quality! I am loving it, I don't want it to ever stop.**

**Now that I have officially wasted a whole few minutes of your time (for which I am sorry), here it is:**

**

* * *

  
**

**Different**

Castle approached the murder board.  
The shadow that was Beckett could be seen at her desk, staring at it. He couldn't really tell, but he knew. She was always staring at it. He took a deep breath before walking up to her, setting down the white paper bag he was holding. She looked up at him, watching him as he sat down. "You're here early," she commented, quietly. A good few hours earlier than he usually did. The early that still left the bullpen empty and dawn unbroken. He sat down in his chair, shrugging.

"Someone has to feed you," he said, simply, pushing the paper bag towards her. A tiny smile escaped her as she accepted, retrieving a bear claw carefully wrapped in a napkin. She bit into it and chewed, enjoying the comfortable silence they slipped into. They both stared at the murder board now, attempting to contemplate the case. As if.

Kate found it hard enough to concentrate on the case when she was alone.  
But with Castle five inches from her side?  
As if that was going to happen.  
She got lost in her thoughts- the pools of her mind had never seemed so cavernous before. She knew that her feelings for Castle were getting in the way of things. Rather the fact that they went unresolved.

It was easier to daydream about that kiss than it was to understand a murder.  
Not to mention happier.  
And utterly confusing.  
But before she let her mind even go there, she refocused- forcing her attention onto the case.

Concentrate, Kate," she told herself.

Castle was having similar issues.

How could he be expected to concentrate on this murder when Kate Beckett was less than an arm's length away, biting her lip and bearing that knitted brow. He could literally reach out and touch her elbow with his. And he was supposed to solve a crime?  
As if that was going to happen.

He wanted so badly to ask- to pry, just a little.  
But he knew he couldn't.  
That was how to shut her up for good.  
If he knew Kate, she'd run after that.  
And he knew Kate.

"Lanie's TOD places time of death at seven am," she spoke, bringing him back to the planet earth. Even about something as mundane as murder, he hung on her every word. The last thing he wanted to talk about was the case, but he knew it must be done. "Neighbor finds him at 8," she sighed, frustrated. "The security tapes show nothing, I looked them over last night. Camera's in the elevators and in the lobby, and not a single shot of our guy. Everyone could be accounted for by the building."

"Elevator cameras?" Castle asked, suddenly interested.

"Yea, two of them. Why?" she sat up straighter, eager for his idea. She could tell by the look on his handsome face it was a good one.

"And they have footage of that morning?" she nodded, still not following.

"They weren't very lively. A few people leaving for work, the last was the delivery man going up to drop off the papers," she said, sheepishly.

"When Lanie got to the scene, she was out of breath. Why?" he asked, waiting for it to click. Suddenly, it did.

"The elevator was out of order!" she exclaimed, excited now. Leads were always exciting. "But what does that even mean?" she asked, her brow furrowing again, sinking back into her desk chair.

"Firstly, if the perp got in this morning, he must have been blending in," Castle told her. "And if he didn't use the elevator, he must have used the stairs. This is all, of course, assuming that the perp wasn't already at Wayne's apartment. He could have been there that night," he pointed out. Again, they sat in silence, bummed.

"No," she said after a long pause. She was chewing on her lip in that way she did when she was thinking really hard. "When we were at his apartment, his sink had dishes in it.." she remembered. "One plate, one cup, and one set of silverware. He was alone the night before. The perp had to have came, killed him, and left that morning."

"So he must have used the stairs," Castle finished for her. They were getting excited again.

"And if he got past the lobby unnoticed, he must have been blending in…"

"So he was one of the neighbors?" It came out as a question.

"Or the delivery man," she said, a smile forming. "The paper is dropped off in the lobby and an employee brings them to individual doors," she explained. "We find out who was on duty this morning…"

"We find the man who saw him last!'' Castle finished for her, mirroring her smile.

"And possibly even his killer."

"It's time for a celebratory cup of coffee," he told her, standing to go to the break room. He touched her shoulder lightly on his way, sending a shockwave through Kate. What the hell was that?"

It was more than the heated make out session she kept revisiting.  
It was more than the dirty jokes and innuendos.  
It was more than the light passes he made at her.  
It was a message.  
A message meant to be taken quite seriously.  
She couldn't help but smile and think to herself:  
Message received.

* * *

The day was a long one.

Esposito and Ryan were still running John Marcus, the mystery meeting, and Beckett and Castle were running down the delivery man. Every where they turned they hit a dead end. As it happens, the delivery man supposedly on duty had no idea what was happening- he was not working that morning, and he had a classroom full of peers to confirm it. Whoever delivered those papers that morning had stolen his identity and borrowed his uniform. Now their only hope of catching the bastard rested on the paper itself, most literally. The lab was trying to pull prints off the newspaper found in Wayne's apartment, and all they could do was wait. It was driving Kate mad.

She sat at her desk, her head in her hands.

"I'm going crazy," she said out loud. For a moment she forgot her company.

"It's late, how about we go home?" he asked her. His diction stuck out to her, making her painfully aware of it.

"We?" she asked first. "Home?" she looked up at him, forgetting to stress for a moment. A mixture of shock, confusion, and maybe even hope flashed through her expression. He just nodded. She stared at him a moment, not really sure if she wanted to accept or decline his offer.

What exactly was he offering?

Somewhere, a part of her decided to trust him.  
The rest of her was too tired to argue.  
So she nodded.

"Okay."

Castle would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised.  
He would also be lying if he said he was disappointed. He leapt up with newfound excitement and pulled her up with him.

They walked, a good few feet away from each other.  
Stood in the elevator, what seemed like miles between them.  
The drive was spent in silence.

They ended up at her place, somehow.  
She drove, but she still wasn't sure how she got there.

"Come up?" she asked, slowly. He looked at her a minute before replying.

"Are you sure?" he asked. The fact that he asked that question at all was enough for her.  
If she wasn't sure before, she sure was now. She nodded.

When inside, she motioned to the couch, where he sat, carefully. As if he were afraid a step to heavy would shatter the place. "Are you hungry?" she called from the kitchen.

"Famished," he told her. He waited patiently for her, and she emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later with two bowls of frosted flakes. "Frosted Flakes?" he asked her, accepting the bowl. She sat on the couch beside him, leaving room between them.

"I know it's not exactly what you're used to, but-"

"It's perfect," he cut her off. More silence ensued. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked her. He was painfully aware of how odd she was acting around him, ever since that night. She shook her head. Not yet. He nodded. "He stood, suddenly, making her look up.

Worry.  
Fear.  
Surprise.  
Sadness.

"Are you leaving?" she asked, more disappointment revealing itself than she had meant. He smiled at her, softly.

I don't suppose you have a DVD player?" he asked.

Relief.

An hour later, Kate was stretched over the entire length of the couch, feet brushing Castle's body, lightly. He watched her as she slept- she fell asleep ten minutes into the film. She looked so peaceful- so serene. Tomorrow she would wake up and shell over and be subject to reality, but right then, she was lost in a dream, relaxed, away from it all. He wanted her to stay that way.

That was why he daren't move.  
He didn't want to wake her.

He called Alexis a little after eleven, informing her he would not be home.  
He smiled as he watched her.  
She breathed. In and out. In and out.  
Soft breaths.

He had spent many a night helping her deal.  
Be it will wine or with burgers or with a tub of Ben and Jerry's and a Cary Grant film.  
But tonight was different.

She was letting him in.

They did the same things.  
They kept their hands to themselves.  
And yet it was so, so different.

He couldn't wait for the case to be over.  
Because whether or not he was comfortable, sitting with his tiny little square of the couch,  
he was so not ready for things to go back to normal.

**Okay, not crazy about this chapter, but things will pick up and happen, I promise.  
Please press the button, feel free to complain.  
I don't hate compliments.  
Don't hate criticism, either.**

**Just as long as your honest :)**


	6. Playing Along

**Here goes chapter six. First, I need to say this before I forget again: I wait until after my story is written for the AN, and I always forget things. First off, I'm not all that familiar with NYC geography, so if I get things wrong, my apologies. Secondly, my research was extensive for this chapter, but again, I'm sorry if I didn't get everything correct. Also gotta give props to Tamala Jones, I borrowed a quote from her and used it in Lanie's dialog. Hopefully you will recognize it when you see it, but this is my disclaimer to that. Lastly, the part about Storm Rising I made up entirely, so none of that is accurate for sure. And now to the normal jabbering: **

**I love you, I love you, I love you, and Paris.  
(And review?)  
I love you even more if you got that song reference.  
If you didn't, GTS.**

**you're all just precious dears.**

**

* * *

**

Kate woke up the very next morning. Where was she?  
Not her bed. No.  
Who was with her?  
Someone was.

"Good morning, Detective," a deep voice greeted her. She forced her eyes open and the grogginess of the morning fled her body.

"Castle?!" She shot straight up, on full alert. She was on her couch, stretched out the entire length, a blanket tucked around her. Castle was at the other end in a sitting position and fully clothed, details that automatically put her at ease. The night's events came flooding back to her and she sank back down into her cocoon of warmth. She was too comfortable to really care.

"Shhhh," he told her, patting her leg comfortingly, leaving it there maybe a second too long.

"What are you still doing here?" she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"I didn't want to wake you," he said. She smiled at his thoughtfulness.

"We should get going," she said, sitting up again.

"I'll get the coffee," he told her, and she returned his soft smile.

* * *

"Lanie, what can you tell me?" Beckett greeted as she and Castle strolled into her lab.

"I'm great, and how are you?" Lanie asked back. Beckett made a face, so she continued. "Mr. Wayne here and I had a long conversation yesterday. He told me all about his demise."

"Care to let us in on it?" Beckett asked.

"COD is the multiple stab wounds to the chest and torso- these cuts- they were strategically placed," she told them.

"What do you mean?" Castle asked, intrigued.

"It seemed odd to me how…clean cut these were, if you will please pardon the terrible pun." She pointed with the scalpel she held in her gloved hand. "These cuts were all thought out- notice how they all seem random yet none severed any major arteries."

"So it was torture?" Beckett asked. Lanie nodded.

"That's my guess. They were inflicted with what looks like a 6 ½ stainless steel, saw toothed blade."

"Does that narrow down the scope for the murder weapon by much?" Kate was doubtful, but Lanie nodded.

"No, but I found traces of a deposited copper selenium compound in the wounds that does," she told her.

"Black Oxide?" Castle asked. The two women turned to him, bewildered at his display of obscure knowledge. "Well I remember in Storm Rising I had to write a scene where the Czech assassin comes across the Navy Seal when he goes to commandeer the boat and offs him with his own blade," he explained.

"A navy seal?" Kate asked looking from Castle to Lanie.

"the Mark 3 navy seal knife, brought to you in part by the US Government," Lanie confirmed, smiling at Castle. "I have to admit, writer boy, I'm impressed."

"Don't sound so surprised," he told her, his smile oozing charm.

"Thanks Lanie," Kate was making her way to the door, dragging Castle along with her.

"Oh no girl," Lanie's voice stopped her in her tracks. Inwardly, Kate sighed and mentally prepared herself for the proverbial beating that was sure to come. "You don't get to walk out on me that easy!"

"Lanie, I have a murder to catch," Kate tried. Behind her, she heard Lanie roll her eyes.

"Castle, you know what I could really use right about now?" Lanie asked, instead of acknowledging Beckett's excuse.

"What's that?" he asked, feeling very awkward.

"Coffee. Hot coffee," she said, smiling.  
She could charm him right back.

He got the message. He made to leave the two alone, again touching Kate's shoulder on his way out. Why did he keep doing that? Kate asked herself. And why do I like it? Once Castle was clear out of earshot, Lanie spoke again. "Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to beat it out of you?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. Kate had to fight a smile.

"I don't know what you mean?" she said, innocently.

"Oh no, you are not going that route, honey. Dumb doesn't suit you. Meaningful touches on the arm? Don't think for a second I missed that." Again, a smile threatened Kate's face. She wondered silently how long she could keep this up. She could lie to the best of them, herself included, but for the life of her she couldn't keep the truth from Lanie.

"It's nothing, Lanie," Kate told her, trying to sound honest.

"It's not nothing as in 'it's actually something but I'm pretending it's nothing,' or 'it's nothing but it could can and will be something in the very near future?'" Lanie rolled off so fast Kate almost couldn't follow.

"I don't know," she shrugged.

* * *

Castle grabbed two coffees from the break room and returned to Lanie's lab in record time, not spilling a drop of the steaming liquid. He paused outside the door, voices audible from the other side.

They were still talking.  
In hushed voices, but talking.  
About him.

"I don't know," he heard Kate's voice.  
God he loved her voice.

"What do you mean 'you don't know?'" That was Lanie. "He's hot, you're hot, why not?"

"Lanie, it's not that simple."

"Well why the hell not?"

"Because…" a good reason escaped her. "Because…" Castle could practically hear Lanie's eyebrow raise. "Because I don't want to mess it up," she said, exasperatedly. "I like what we have now, and I don't want to lose that."

"Kate, you are the best poker player I know. Take a risk, cause Lord knows your holding all the Aces," Kate let out a tinkling laugh at this analogy.

"It's just not that simple." Kate said again, this time definitively. Castle's superego could be heard now, barking into his ear. His ID receded and he forced himself to pull away, opening the door and entering the lab.

"Coffee, for the ladies," he held out the two cups, letting each of them take one. "Should I go get biscotti's?" he asked them, Lanie specifically.

"No, actually, we were done," Kate answered instead, making to leave and practically dragging Castle with her. "Nice chat, Lanie!" she called behind her.

"We will finish this conversation later!" Lanie called after them, even though the door had already closed behind them. "We will," she told Mr. Wayne on her table.

* * *

"Espo, what can you tell me about the mysterious John Marcus?" Beckett asked as she strode into the bullpen, cradling her coffee almost protectively. Esposito and Ryan turned in their seats, leaping up to update she and the shadow behind her.

"John Marcus was no easy man to find," Esposito told them, pinning a rap sheet to the white board. "Long rap, too. Arrested in the 90's for impersonating a police officer, identity theft and robberies."

"So what are we looking at?"

"Our boy's a con man. Ran some small-time real estate cons, nothing huge, just minor pay-offs, until he graduated to identity theft, internet scamming- mostly the fake vacations and stuff."

"And he how long did he serve?" Beckett asked, an eyebrow lifted.

"He was small-time, but he was smart. He cut a deal, gave up his partner and got 15, was out in ten on good behavior."

"His partner?" Kate asked.

"Matthew Gregory," Ryan said.

"Are you serious right now?" Castle chose this moment to comment. "Matt Greg is his name?" Ryan nodded, not following. "What IS it with this case?" Beckett stifled a laugh and looked at Esposito to continue.

"Anyways we had a hell of a time tracking him down, he moved all over the place, parole was lifted last month, he's been off the grid,"

"But?" Beckett asked.

"Who says there's a but?" Ryan challenged. Again, Beckett's brow reached her forehead in a neat littler arch.

"I say you would look so smug unless there was a but- I'd say neither of you would be grinning if he wasn't waiting for me in some interrogation room. I say there's a but," she informed them, crossing her arms.

"Have you had your coffee this morning?" Ryan asked, backing away a bit. She shot him a look.

"_But _Ryan got a hit off a stolen car report off of a total fluke- there is a one Mr. John Marcus sitting in Interrogation Room Four for you," Esposito assured her. She smiled.

"Thank you," she breezed past all three of the men, towards the interview room.

"What did you do?" Esposito mouthed silently in Castle's direction. Castle could only shrug, wildly.

"You comin' Castle?" Kate called behind her. He just waved to the boys and hurried after her, slipping into the interrogation room.

* * *

John Marcus was the most disgusting man Castle had ever seen. The second he laid eyes on the sorry excuse of a man he knew it- and his judgments were proven the second he opened his mouth. Some filthy comment directed towards Kate- Castle couldn't remember exactly what, but it was distasteful. Something about 'damn,' and 'hot and something else perverse. Castle sat rigidly in the seat beside Beckett, across from Marcus. He watched Kate as she handled the so-called compliment, with a tight smile and a stone still face.

Expressionless.  
He envied how she could do that.

"Mr. Marcus," she began, straightening the case folder in front of her.

"Please, call me John," he said, a southern drawl ever-present in his voice.

"Cute accent, Mr. Marcus, where'ya from?" Beckett asked, ignoring his request.

"Wes' Virginia," he slurred, lazily. "Where are you from? Cause I need to send them a thank you letter," he smiled a crooked grin. Castle wanted to puke at the lame come on.

"You flatter me, Mr. Marcus," Castle whipped around to Beckett.  
_She was playing along, _it dawned on him.  
_She never played along. _

Castle quickly discovered that he did not like this new tactic.

He realized it was part of her job- profiling on the spot and cold reading for the best approach, but this was not his favorite. He liked it when she put them in her place.

Yes, now that was fun to watch.  
But Beckett? Batting her beautiful eyelashes at that waste of space?  
He was struck by the sudden urge to vomit again.

Another ugly smile was sent her way. Beckett moved, slowly, to Marcus's side of the table, noticing Castle's look of shock but not acknowledging it. "Why don't you tell me where you were Saturday night, John?" she asked, batting her lashes again.

No, Castle thought.  
No, he didn't like this at all.

"At home," he told her.

"With?"

"Don't get jealous on me. I was alone," they seemed to have forgot Castle was there at all.

"Really?" Kate asked, drawing out her vowels. It would have been hot if the situation was different. Without warning, Marcus launched towards her, his lips aiming for hers. She dodged him, letting him fall short and stumble over the table. She made her way back to Castle's side, crossing her arms across her chest.

Outwardly she looked quite pleased with herself, but under that Castle knew better.  
Under that she was disgusted.  
With Marcus.  
With the situation.  
With herself.

"So no alibi?"

"Bitch," Marcus snarled. She just smirked. And then, when he sat back in his seat, now a look of anger permanently etched onto his face, "What exactly do I need an alibi for?"

* * *

After the interview was finished and Marcus was booked in holding, Castle found Beckett in the break room. He slipped inside, loud enough to alert her of his presence and quiet enough to be discrete, closing the door behind him. She didn't turn around where she stood, fixing an espresso. He came up behind her, resting a hand on her arm, carefully. "Are you okay?" he asked her into her ear, quietly.

His presence behind her was so comforting.  
She caught herself leaning backwards into him and straightened, rigidly.  
As much as she wanted to just curl up into him, she couldn't.  
Not here.  
Not now.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice clipped. "I understand why he was an internet con man now," she commented, earning a half-hearted laugh from the man behind her. He was so close she felt it, rumbling from his chest. Again she had to straighten her back. He grabbed her arm again, lightly, turning her to face him. She kept her eyes downcast, taking up a sudden fixation with her shoes.

"He was lucky you even pretended to be interested in him," he told her.  
He didn't know if this was the right thing to say or not, but it was all he could think of. He had a teenage daughter- he could tell when a pep talk was in order. She looked up at him, slowly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm lucky," he told her, his voice quiet again. It was barely a whisper. He reached up to touch her face, but going against every fiber of her biological being, she turned her head, dodging his touch. The look on his face and the drop in her heart made her immediately regret the move.

"Not here," she whispered, equally as quiet, admiring the buckles on her heels once again. She touched his chest, briefly, as if to tell him it was okay. He nodded.

"Alright," he told her, taking his hands back to himself.

"Thank you," she told him.  
She didn't just mean his acceptance.  
This he knew.

* * *

**Okay, second long AN: **

**So sorry it took so long to update.  
This case involved some research, so that took time, then this stupid 'school' thing that keeps getting in the way. Anyways, sorry. Hopefully I made up for it in length. Also I want to say- maybe the interrogation scene was a tad OOC- I wasn't sure, but ahh, here it is anyways. I'd love to know what you thought. I had a hard time with this chapter, but hopefully I managed to make it somewhat legitimate. Also- I have no idea where this case is going, but I will figure something out. **

**Also, I have no intention of linking this to Johanna Beckett's murderer. Just throwing that out there.**

**Be a dear?  
The button's below. D**


	7. Stay Awhile

**[Profuse apologies will ensue, so if you don't really care, skip this little essay] **

**I am SO unbelievably sorry this took sooo long to update. So much has been going on, I haven't had a spare moment. Just let me get past this yearbook deadline and I promise I will get better at this. To make up for the huge gap between posts, I added some much-needed loving in this one- all you fluffing fluffy fluffballs out there, this has your kind of stuff, me thinks.**

**But of course, my name is softer, and I gotta keep things real now.**  
**So pragmatism will ensue, just saying. This fic has kind of taken a life of its own**  
**I never meant for it to go on this long, let alone get so serious.**  
**I think I will be moving the rating up if things keep going in this direction. **

**Sorry for the long note. Sorry times infinity.**

* * *

**Stay Awhile**

Better.

She needed to make things better between them.

Things weren't bad- no.  
But the scene in the break room left them both a little wounded.

How she wanted to just give in to him.  
She did, she really did.

How she wanted to lean into his touch and feel his warm body against her and lips moving in unison with hers. She did.

But it wasn't that simple.

There was this system of schemas in her mind.  
They set the rules  
And she followed them.

This she tried to explain to him, later that very day, in the stairwell. Ever since the 'curse' case and the elevator incident, he refused to ride it, so the stairs became a popular route. They made it halfway down before she stopped and sat down on one of the stairs. Castle stopped, looked at her oddly and followed suit, not even bothering to ask.

He sat sown right next to her, much too close, his entire side in contact with hers. She leaned into it as much as those damned schemas would allow. "I'm trying," she whispered, not sure who was talking. Certainly it wasn't her. "I'm trying to let you in," she looked at him, straight in the eye. She needed him to know that.

He nodded. "I know," he told her. Baby steps. I can do baby steps."

"I...I have these rules," she began to explain, using her hands, as if they would help. "These rules that govern my actions. I don't really know how to _not_ follow them," she admitted, after some stumbling.

"Rules are made to be broken," he told her. She shook her head.

"Not my rules," she told him, looking at him again. In response he lifted an arm, draping it around her shoulders and pulling her into him, firmly.

"Then I will just have to break them for you," he told her, matter-of-factly. She froze up, but then grinned and relaxed. Why _wasn't _she allowed to enjoy his touch again? With him pressed up against her entire left side it was impossible to remember. She looked up again, and his face was inches from her own. How did he get that close that fast? She asked herself. She really didn't care about the answer. The next thing she knew something possessed her back to arch and her neck to crane upwards, her mouth locking onto his. At first they just stayed like that, unmoving. Her lips attached to his. She had to move first, this she knew. It had to be her- he wouldn't continue if it wasn't. so she did.

His lips moved on hers, his hand cupping her face, gently, almost afraid she'd change her mind. She tasted so sweet- so damn good, and he couldn't get enough of it as his tongue battled with hers for the upper hand. She snaked her hand up his neck and around his head, burying her fingers in his hair, pulling him down onto her, harder. She needed more. The schema's stopped making sense and she didn't even try to fight her needs. That pang in her stomach was growing and spreading, pulled away, forcing himself to slow down. He couldn't do this. Not here, in a stairwell. Not now, after their day. She felt him pull away, and she just kind of remained, numb and unwilling to accept that the moment had ended.

It can't have ended.

Then his arm was gone. She threw open the eyes she hadn't realized she'd closed and looked at him. Just as fast, fingers were entwining with hers and he was pulling her onto her feet.

He led her out, forgetting to let go of her hand.  
In all fairness, she forgot to take it back.

Worried. She was worried.  
What would happen?  
To her  
To him  
To them?

Truth is she was scared.  
Scared as hell.  
She wanted to give in.  
She wanted to just give herself to him, |  
Without doubts or hesitation or fear.  
But she couldn't.  
That wasn't the way she worked, and there was nothing to change that.

He knew this.  
He knew about her rules, long before she told him in so many words.  
No, Kate Beckett never did anything without great conviction and hours of forethought.  
He knew asking her for anything else would be pointless.

Besides, he didn't want anything else.  
Sure, it saddened him, her wariness.  
But he knew anything less would not qualify as Beckett.  
He loved her, he realized.  
Every bit of her.  
And that included her rational, cautious approach to things.  
Big things.  
Him.

He would wait forever.  
He really really would.  
This he realized, right after he realized he loved her.  
He would wait until the apocalypse if it meant one moment with her.  
With her.  
Them together.  
Since when did such a pedestrian phrase carry such weight?  
Since the personal pronoun indicated Kate Beckett, he told himself.

These feelings-they were beyond the lust he had for Gina or the love her once felt for Meredith. Yes, he loved Meredith. Still did, on occasion. They shared a child, and no matter how crazy Meredith was, she was a part of his life, just as much as she was in Alexis's.

But what he felt for Kate- that was different.

It was not the flame that sparked on occasion, but the kind that burned slowly and eternally in the depths of his chest. It was not wildfire, blazing fast and out quickly. It was more of a slow, burning house, engulfing his heart slowly and powerfully, showing no mercy in its claim. It didn't matter that it was tearing him up and leaving some poor family homeless. Or in this analogy, his heart, lonesome. It burned and burned, and no water would put it out.

All this occurred to him as they walked down the streets of Manhattan. They were busy and bustling with evening traffic- teenagers up way past their curfew, workaholics just turning in, and young lovers walking around hand in hand. And then there was them- two co-workers- two friends, really, walking. Languidly, aimlessly, fingers laced together as if it were a normal occurrence. Looking perfectly at ease as they were pushed around and bumped into strangers, not to mention each other.

Ten minutes walking Kate realized where he was leading her. Her heart fluttered a little in a way that made her want to smack herself before she settled her emotions down and rationalized herself into a farce of anger. His apartment was a block away, and they were headed right for it. She chose to say nothing, but snuck a look at him. He was smiling minutely to himself, looking ahead, his hand holding hers definitely, tightly. She could pull away if she wanted. She knew the second she tried he would drop it without hesitation. Maybe that was why she didn't. Another smile snuck past and broke from censorship, lighting up her face to her brilliant green eyes.

The next thing she knew they were at his building. In his elevator. Walking down the hall. At his door. He whipped out his key and opened it, holding it open and indicating for her to walk in. He dropped her hand, reluctantly and she obliged, stepping carefully across the threshold and the hardwood floor of the foyer. She sat on the couch just as warily as Castle disappeared into the kitchen, reemerging with two glasses of wine. He sat on the couch beside her, not too close, but close enough for his knee to brush hers as he faced her.

"Thanks," she said, smiling gratefully as she sipped the crimson liquid. He followed suit, eying her carefully. She was worried, he could tell. About his intentions, no doubt. But she was mostly nervous, and he found it just adorable.

"Relax," he told her, warmly. "Take your shoes off, stay awhile," he tried not to sound so hopeful. She looked skeptical. "Alexis is over a friends, and only the lord knows where mother is," he told her, wondering if that was her worry. She looked at him, slowly slipping off her shoes, using one to ease off the other. After another moment: "Do you want to talk or should I break out my Golden Girls box set?" This earned a full-fledged smile.

She knew what he meant by talk, but she wanted to ask anyways. "Talk about what?"

"About your day, the weather, your favorite color," he said, lightheartedly. "About anything you want."

"I thought you would know all those things, Mr. Novelist," she poked, playfully, receiving another small smile on his face.

"Well your day was hell, the weather is gorgeous and your favorite color is purple," he said, without missing a beat. "Now that we have those formalities out of the way, I can always think of more thought provoking questions if you'd like."

She knew what he meant by that, too. She wanted to smile and ask him to fire away, but like all the other things she wanted to say to him, it died on her lips, muffled by the schemas that seemed to be running her life. She chickened out. _Coward,_ she told herself. "Well what do you keep me around for if you know if all, then?" she said instead.

"Well, detective, as much as I enjoy the sound of my own sultry voice, "She rolled her eyes, more out of habit than anything. "Your company is far to pleasurable to pass up."

"Pass up?" an eyebrow lifted, even though inside she was touched. "You practically dragged me here."

"Yes, well I didn't have to break out the duct tape and rope, so I think it's safe to say that this is conceptual," he shot right back. They both shared a laugh. "The Golden Girls it is," he said, not having to be told. He stood, reaching into the depths of the DVD drawer.

"You are such a _girl!" _she told him. she was getting more comfortable, pulling her knees to her chest, her socked feet resting on the black leather of the sofa, her arms around them, holding them close. "I'm more of a Cheers! girl," she admitted. he grinned a boyish grin that could only belong to him.

"I like that," he told her, pulling out a handful of boxes. "Are you a Diane person or a Rebecca person?"

"Diane, all the way," his eyebrow shot up.

"You surprise me, detective, but I have to agree," he told her, retrieving the second season. "This one is the best, in my opinion," he told her. she nodded her agreement. He popped it into the player and settled beside her, maintaining his friendly but respectable distance. He wasn't about to push his luck. Instead it was her who leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He was warm.

She hadn't the slightest what possessed her to scoot closer, but she did. He froze at first in pure surprise, but relaxed when it seemed that no physical assualt would follow the sudden displpay of affection. Then as the theme song started and the familiar credits rolled, he lifted his arm, securing it around her so she would be more comfortable. She smiled, glad the folds of his navy button up were hiding it. Her long arms snaked around his waist in response. She was enjoying this closeness. Just as Coach was entering the bar on the screen, she felt his fingers teasing at her hair slightly, massaging her scalp lightly with his nails. It felt heavenly. She was enjoying this far too much.

Why was he doing this?  
Why was she letting him?  
And why the hell did she like it so much?

The head massage was followed by a joke from the old man on the TV and the low rumble that was laughter from the body she rest on. He teased gently at a lock of her hair, and a small gasp escaped her. he removed his hand instantly.

"I'm sorry," he told her, quietly. It nearly hurt her how concerned he sounded. It was touching, but he misunderstood. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she managed, feebly. It wasn't a pain kind of gasp. This he was quick to realize.

"Oh," he said, just as breathlessly. She looked up at him, and again wondered how it was his face got so close to hers. She sweared given their current comfortable position it couldn't be humanly possible. However unnatural, there he was, his lips near and warm and inviting. It was then she forgot about the rulebook altogether and crashed her lips into his, taking him by surprise once again. His lips met hers in a passionate frenzy, moving with increasing urgency matched only in softness. The simple action chemically reacted with the simmering spark in her chest, like kerosene would to a fire, feeding the flame and spreading itno a rapid and uncontrolled rampage. It seared through her, heading South, fast, causing her back to arch a little.

If she had ever wanted him, it was now more than ever. she grabbed his neck and held him down to her, teasing at his lips with her tongue, begging for entrance. He granted without hesitation and let her explore the cavernous depths before fighting her for dominance. Things were getting hot, he realized, as she readjusted herself so she was sitting up properly, her nimble fingers pulling impatiently at the hem of his shirt.

They were getting hot too fast.

He put both hands on either of her shoulders, easing her off of him, space increasing between them. She looked confused, then disappointed.

"What's wrong?" she asked, trying, and failing, to keep the dissapointment out of her voice.

"We're not ready for this," he told her, sighing and re buttoning the top buttons of his shirt. He hadn't even realized she had gotten to them.

"what do you mean? 'We're not ready?'" she asked, sinkning down into the couch, relaxing and sighing, frustratedly.

"I mean you're not ready for this and I'm not ready to take advantage of you," he explained, running a hand through his hair. "Or have sex on my couch with Nicholas Colasanto on the television," he added for good measure.

"Take advantage of me? I've hardly had a half a glass of wine," she raised an eyebrow.

"You know that's not what I meant," he told her.

"Well are you going to ask me to leave?" she asked, more sadness showing then she cared for.

"Of course not," he assured her, hurt she even thought that. "Nicholas Colasanto isn't going to be on the screen _all _night," she smacked his lightly on the chest but smiled despite herself, relieved for the comical comment. "C'mere," he patted the spot on his chest where she was laying moments before. She smiled, obliging, resting her head against him again, arms re-circling his waist. She was comfortable here. It was like this couch was specifically deigned for the two of them. again his hand was tracing light patterns on her back, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the moment. Then she felt his lips on the top of her head. "I don't want any regrets, Kate," he told her, his voice lowered to a whisper.

He inhaled the cherry orchard that seemed to be growing somewhere among the Carmel brown strands. God she smelled good. Her arms tightened around him a little. "Me neither," he heard her muffled reply. If he took her now, in her emotional state, he would lose her forever, of that he was sure. It would be an awkward morning and a regretful day followed by immediate regression of the relationship he had come to cherish, and he wouldn't risk that for anything in the world. The only sound that was heard emanated from the television, aside from laughter.

"I really hate how Diane and Sam _obviously _are perfect for each other, but neither of them seem to notice," she commented, sometime after the silence grew almost too heavy to carry.

"No, I think they know," Castle prophesied. "I think they hate each other too much to realize they love each other." She looked up at him, oddly. "Just trust me. Its possible."

"Do you hate me?" she asked, almost concerned.

"Of course not!" he replied, appalled. "I could never hate you!" she settled back into the warm patch she had left on his shoulder. "Do you hate me?" he asked, taking the bait.

She was silent for a second, pretending to debate her answer. "Yes," she replied. "A little bit sometimes." she grinned mischievously at his fallen face. She reached a hand up to cup it, her thumb brushing his cheek lightly.

"We were having a moment, you know," he told her, scowling only slightly. her smile broadened and she nodded, wordlessly. "Moments don't happen all the time. Who knows when we'll get another moment?"

"Oh, Ricky. There is plenty of time for moments,"

"I will hold you to that, you know," he told her, the double meaning unintended, but it worked either way.

* * *

**Soooooo? I really hope it was worth the wait!  
****Please please please leave a review!  
And I will try my very hardest to be better at updating from here on out********.**

**************First thanks to Em- for your craziness and your mental images and the help :)  
And of course to my reviewers- you're the ones that keep me writing :) **

**************Reviews, criticism and praise alike, make me so unbelievably happy.  
****************There's only one way to improve writing- and thats to critique it.**

******************************So press the button and make my day?  
********************************Even if it's to yell at me for my long update time.**

**************************************************************Love, sof**


	8. Somethings and Nothings

**Woah dudes. So So So sorry for the longs wait. This aweful life thing got in the way and I didn't get a chance to sit down and DO this.  
Thanks to Hemily for helping through my little speedbump- I wouldn't have cranked out this chapter without your help.  
Sorry for any typo's, I tried to get them all. **

**Now if you will forgive me, I would love it if you read this chapter (at long last) **

**Somethings and Nothings**

Kate was struck by a heavy wave of déjà vu when she woke the next morning.

Again, she felt the soft, worn leather of Castle's couch beneath her, and the equally soft cotton of his shirt behind her. He was actually spooning her. The couch was not a spacious one, but it was large enough, she concluded. This time she did not mind him proximity. Despite her feelings the night before, she felt herself relieved to see both their clothes intact. "You gotta stop falling asleep on my couch," she heard Castle behind her. It was low and mumble-y, as he was obviously just greeting not only her but consciousness. She smiled to herself, relieved to find he couldn't see it, and wondered how he knew she was up. Then she wondered how long her had been hanging there, between sleep and wake, watching her though lidded lashes like he did. Again, she was smiling.

"Well you have to stop seducing me," she shot back, in an equally groggy tone. Upon feeling the rumble of a laugh beginning low in his chest, she rolled over so she was facing him, taking some of his blue button up in her small hands and burying her face in his solid chest. Again, the low rumble that coupled his silent snicker.

"I didn't even have to break out the hard liquor," he joked back.

"Castle, I think we both know that if I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be," she told him, smiling up at him. He smiled warmly back.

Marcus sat in the interrogation room. After he had revised his alibi, from 'home alone' to out drinking with some buddies, Kate raked the underbelly of the city trying to disprove it. Luck, as it happened, was on her side today. She strolled into the interrogation room, coolly, in a manner most women can attempt but only she could perfect, Castle hot on her heels. "Mr. Marcus," she began, dropping the case file onto the metal table with a heavy thunk. The room, cleverly designed for intimidation, reverberated the sound, bouncing off of all four walls before dying.

"I thought we were past this, Kate," he said slyly. If he was angry at her before, he had gotten over it now. When she sat, she could see Castle's fist tighten, and she touched his foot with hers, so lightly and discretely he might of missed it.

"That's Detective Beckett, to you," Castle told him, equally as cool. He did not want a rerun of yesterday's episode. He couldn't see her like that again. Marcus just looked at him oddly before returning his undivided attention to Beckett.

"Where were you Saturday night, Marcus?" she asked, ice in her voice. It wasn't even his that made her so angry, although he wasn't exactly alleviating the situation. She just hated being lied to. She hated all the man power she had to waste on every one he told her. She wanted the truth. Marcus, for reasons Kate would never understand, grinned a little, sinking down into his chair in terrible posture.

"I already told you that," he told her, in a matter-of-fact way that only pissed her off even more,

"Yeah, Marcus. You were home alone, you were at the bar, you were in bed. You can't be at all of these places, Marcus," she could hear her voice elevating. "I know you weren't at the bar." She stood up, frustrated. "Seems like the one person you forgot to bribe was the relief bartender, cause he didn't recognize your ugly face."

Marcus didn't seem to know what to think of this. He just kind of stared at her, speech escaping him. It was Kate then who felt Castle's foot on hers, just a light, gentle nudge to remind her that he was there. Almost instantaneously, her demeanor softened and her shoulders relaxed a hair. It wasn't until minutes later when Marcus finally regained the ability to speak, letting out a brief sardonic laugh. "You're a bitch," he told her.

"Thanks for the memo," she shot back. "This one- he's original," she told Castle in a loud whisper, as if Marcus wasn't there. In her periphery, she saw his jaw clench and that muscle by his temple twitch. Castle seemed amused by the situation.

"Witty," Castle said, turning to Marcus. "You're sharp," Beckett and Castle shared a laugh and Marcus got even angrier at the joke they seemed to share. There laughter was cut short by the sound of metal on cement as Marcus stood, pushing the chair out abruptly. "I think we hurt his feelings," Castle whispered to Beckett, not looking away from the livid man. Kate merely shrugged, standing herself.

"I'm hungry," she said.

"I could go for a bite," Castle followed her lead, opening the door for her. "You'll be here when we get back?" he asked Marcus, shutting the door on his face, red with anger, before he could answer.

Once out of the interrogation room, Kate dropped herself into her desk chair. "We're not going out to eat?" Castle asked, confused.

"No," Kate replied, as if it were a stupid question coming from a toddler.

"But I'm hungry!" he pouted.

Before Beckett could open her mouth to speak, though, her phone rang. She picked it up. "Beckett." A second later she hung up. "That was Lanie. I'm going to go to the morgue to see what she's got- since you are _so _hungry, you can go get pizza- remember the onions on my half," she said, standing and making to the elevator.

"You're sticking me on pizza runs?" he called after her, looking helpless. "You're gonna solve a murder and I'm on pizza duty?" She ignored his complaints and stepped on the elevator were she was sure he wouldn't follow her, smashing the button that was the basement floor.

Lanie needed to see her, this was the truth.  
But Kate needed to see _her _even more.

-x-

"Hey girl," Lanie greeted without turning around, the sound of the door sliding open and closed alerting her of Beckett's presence. At Kate's silence, she did turn. "What's up?" Concern leaked in at the sight of her friend. "Sit," she commanded, nodding to the nearest vacant exam table. And so the ritual began. Lanie, her findings forgotten, sat on a table across from Kate, who was laying on one, Rasinettes in one hand and water in the other. "Start from t beginning."

"Remember that nothing that you were convinced was something? The nothing I assured you was and never would be something other than a wild figment of your imagination?" Kate asked, staring at the ceiling, almost cryptically. Well, what would have been cryptic to anyone but Lanie, who understood it just as easily as she did science and English and men.

"Ohhhh," she said, dramatically, preluding something Kate knew was coming. "You mean that something I _knew _was something even when you insisted _oh so fervently _was nothing? The something that everyone but you can see is anything _but _nothing?" she asked, eyebrow arched.

"Yeah," Kate sighed, counting the ceiling tiles. "That something."

"What about him?" she asked. Kate whipped her head around to give her a look, but sighed, resumed her mental tile counting, and continued.

"I like him," she said, secretly internally relieved to have dropped the complicated analogy talk.

"Well _duhh,_" Lanie quipped back. "You're going to be a tad more specific."

"From the beginning you say?" Kate asked. Lanie, in response, threw a Rasinette at her, hitting her on the forehead. "Well we went on this fabulous non-date that I'm pretty sure was a date, and then we made out in the stairwell." At this Lanie's jaw dropped.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" she asked, interrupting.

"Do you want to hear the story or what?" Kate asked, tearing her eyes away once again to look at her. Lanie just nodded, crossing her legs Indian-style and popping another Rasinette in her mouth. "_As I was saying _the something is most definitely not nothing anymore and him and I are…"

"What?"

"I think that's the problem?" it was more of a question. Kate sighed, exasperatedly. "I have no idea _what _we are."

"Is he jerking you around, because if he is, girl, I swear-"

"No, Lanie, it's nothing like that," she was quick to assure. "He's been surprisingly…sweet…about the whole thing."

"Surprising maybe to you. You know he's earnest at heart. Under his little rich boy farce is a good man, Kate. You need to know that." Lanie loved Beckett but sometimes she could be so thick.

"I do," Kate replied, after some consideration. "I know that. It's just hard to see past it sometimes. It's me that is holding us back. Which he's being sweet about as well," there was a tinge of annoyance at the last part.

"He's being patient and understanding," Lanie concluded. "How dare he." Beckett made a face, but Lanie's point was made. She was right, too. "You know how you are," she continued, when Kate didn't provide a witty retort. "And as much as you hate to admit it, he knows how you are too. And in case you haven't noticed honey, he loves you for it."

At the L-word, Kate's head snapped in Lanie's direction.

"Yeah you heard me correctly, that card has just been played. Both of you refuse to throw it out there, so I forced the hand."

"Again, with the poker analogy?" Kate asked out loud. "And who says we're even playing a game?"

"Oh honey it's not a game, not for either of you. Doesn't make it any less interesting to watch."

"We almost had sex last night," Kate confided. At this abrupt confession Lanie nearly spit out the water she had sipped.

"You almost did what now?" she asked, bewildered.

"On his couch. But he stopped it."

"Why?" Lanie's interest was piqued.

"Something about regrets and Nick Colasanto," Kate said, dismissively.

"Oh Nick Colasanto is too cute. I just want to pick him up and put him in my pocket," Lanie gushed. "I don't see what he has to do with sex, though."

"Now there is an image," Kate let out a musical laugh. "Thank you, Lanie," she sat upright, hopping off the table and stealing a Rasinette.

"Some things are allowed to be somethings, Kate," Lanie replied, sagely. "Take him out of your nothing box."

"That was oddly wise, Lanie," Kate said.

"I would take that as a compliment if you didn't sound so surprised," Lanie shot back. Kate just waved on her way out, not looking back on her smiling friend.

**Love me and review?  
If not only to yell at me for the weeks this chapter took.  
Forgiveness is thekey to happiness.**

**Forgiveness and marshmellows.  
Mostly marshmellows.**

**But forgiveness is good, too.**

**Review.  
Love, sof. **


	9. Distance, Diminished

**Here is the warning- this chapter is most definitely rated M. Smut to ensue**

**This is your warning, if the rating raising wasn't warning enough. And it's in bold so don't act like you missed it.**

**I want to thank Emily for all the support and general awesomness- you are kind of amazing.  
And thanks to Bugg for help with the title- the credit goes to you, deary.**

**And now, **

**Distance Diminished**

* * *

Kate rode the elevator up, arriving with a happy 'ding' at the twelfth floor. She strode out with a certain air of confidence- her confidence. The confidence she hadn't realized she had been missing until she got it back. Neither Castle nor the boys, who were lounging at the desks, open box of pizza between them, failed to notice her newfound assurance, and they all looked up, taken slightly aback. She sat down in her seat, swatted Castle's feet off of her desk, and grabbed a piece of pizza. "Ryan- I want you to cross reference Matthew Gregory with military records- Navy SEAL, to be specific. Espo- go talk to Lanie, I think she may have something you can do." She delegated.

"Didn't you just get back from Lanie's?" Esposito asked.

"Yes," she replied, unclear of the problem. "Did you misunderstand the order?" she asked back, biting into her pizza nearly violently. In her periphery, she saw Castle grin. She had stupidly forgotten to get Lanie's findings while she was down there. Both Ryan and Esposito leapt up, disappearing into work. When she was sure they were out of earshot, she turned to Castle. He was still grinning like a small child. "What?" she asked, taking another bite of her lunch.

"I've missed you," he replied, simply, his face lighting up. She had to brake the eye contact she hadn't realized she was holding to bite her lip, suppressing the smile that threatened her demeanor.

"Castle," she began. Her voice was low, so low he had to scoot closer to hear. Despite her serious tone, her eyes had the sparkle. The sparkle they had been missing the past few days. "If we are going to do this, I need you to lighten up," a small grin broke on her face.

"I can't believe you, Kate Beckett, just told _me, _Richard Castle, to lighten up," he said, shocked.

"And afterwards we can go ice skating in hell," she quipped back, smiling, happy he was taking her advice. The serious Castle was great, but now she needed to smile. She needed to laugh. He laughed out loud at that, but again his face sobered.

"What's the wager?" he asked her. She blushed, and felt as if he could see right through her. His response put her off- it was as if he was in on the whole poker analogy. She just smiled at him.

In her mind, she pushed all of her metaphorical chips to the middle of the metaphorical table.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You did _what?" _Lanie asked, her exclamation exceeding the acceptable decibel level for the morgue. "I told you to up the ante, not go all in!"

The scene was all-too familiar- Kate, opposite her on a steel exam table, laying, ankles crossed and her head propped up by a roll of sanitary paper towels supporting her neck.

Lanie, cross-legged on another, rolling a Rasinette around in her mouth.

"I'm going to start charging you by the hour, you know," she said, matter-of-factly, earning an eye roll from Kate.

"Do you want to hear the story, or what?" Kate asked, bringing with the simple question another wave of déjà vu. That shut her up, as she just leaned in closer and popped another chocolate covered treat in her mouth. "So he asked me…."

"_What's the wager?" _

_She smiled at him, biting her lip, almost as if in anticipation. It was then she decided what to do- her mind had been made. The day droned on, this, that, the other thing and another dead end in the case. It was maybe eleven when Castle convinced her to go home. He helped her into her coat without much trouble, and they made their way onto the city streets. He asked if she's like to take a cab, but she declined, preferring the cool night breeze on her skin. _

"_Let's walk," she proposed, and he smiled his agreement. His hand brushed against hers- once, and innocent accident, a mere hazard of their swinging arms. The second, however, or the third- those were deliberate passes. She realized this and shoved into his shoulder, pretending to be annoyed by his antics. _

"_What?" he asked, innocently, as he stumbled and regained his balance. She slipped her hand in his anyways, lacing her fingers with his. They walked like this, draped in the comfortable silence and the pleasure of one another's company. The walk seemed to last forever and yet only seconds- but at long last (or far too soon?) they reached her door. Castle turned to face her, not letting go of her hand. He didn't think he was ready to. _

"_We've been here before," he told her, earning a small smile._

"_Yeah," she replied, internally kicking herself for her lack of creativity. "We have." He took a tiny step towards her, bending his head, lips aiming for hers. He froze in his advance when she placed a hand on his chest. He looked hurt and took a step back as he got the wrong impression. Kate desperately needed to amend that._

"_No," she began, using that hand to pull on his lapel, bringing him closer. "Don't get the wrong idea." She said, eyes locking on his. "I've been thinking Castle."_

"_Might want to get that looked at," he told her, still wary. She socked him in the arm, playfully. Leave it to him to ruin the moment._

"_I've been thinking a great deal," she sucked in a deep breath. She needed to say this. "I like you, a lot Castle. Scary a lot. And I've decided I'm okay with that."_

"_So you're giving me permission to like you?"_

"_No," she replied, hand flattening on his rock solid chest once again, stepping a hair closer. "I'm giving myself permission to like you back," she told him, before angling her mouth upward and crashing her lips onto his, her other hand threading through his hair, holding him against her._

_Castle's arms snaked around her waist and she let him pull her flush against his body. God he felt so good. It took every ounce of self-control to break the kiss, but she hung in his arms, looking up at him, a silly smile on her face. "Come in," she said, coming out as half-question, half-order. _

"_Kate-" he began, worry clouding his eyes._

"_No, it's okay," she assured him, reaching up and kissing him as if to prove this. "I'm sure." _

_She had her confidence back.  
And he found it hot as hell._

_He let her lead him into her apartment, the space pitch black but for a little light spilling in from the street lights below. The room was semi-illuminated by the orange-y tinge- just enough so that neither of them bothered with the lights. She was a head of him, tugging him along by their interlocked fingers, until she stopped and he didn't. _

_Their bodies collided with force and they both tumbled to the safety of the couch. She had landed beneath him- he had the quickness of mind to throw his arms out, catching himself with a hand on either side of her head so he didn't squash her. "Smooth," she muttered, teasingly._

"_I was never a 'tuck-and-roll' kind of person," he informed her. She was so small under him._

_Although he would never say so out loud, he liked that.  
Although she wouldn't, either, she did too._

_She could just barely make out his features- the orange illuminated his lines- his nose, his brow, his jaw-his lips. But the black shadowed the rest. She craned her neck and kissed him again, the taste of him addicting. "I've been thinking, too," he said, between the long, lingering pecks._

"_I thought I heard some rocks knocking together," she told him, not stopping her ministrations. He pulled away, feigning hurt. This only lasted a send before he missed her touch and returned to her. _

"_What do you want, Kate?" He asked her, planting a kiss under her jaw as she arched towards him._

"_Isn't it kind of obvious what I want?" she asked. He continued his caress but did not answer. _

_He wanted to hear it.  
Then again, so did she._

"_I want you to love me," she whispered, so softly he almost missed it, which was saying something, considering their current propinquity. He lifted his head to catch her eyes with his. They were sparkling emeralds even in the dark- laced with what looked like ribbons of amber and gold and desire._

"_I do love you," he told her, sincerely. He felt her grip tighten around his neck._

"_Then prove it to me," she whispered back. God that was maybe the sexiest thing she had ever said to him. He crashed his lips onto hers, unable to hold back anymore._

_Shirts went flying, and in a flurry of denim and cotton, the rest of their clothes joined them in a pool on the floor. He was relishing her body- with his eyes, with his hands, with his mouth and with his own. He explored the new facets of her revealed to him for the first time, taking time to appreciate every part equally. He kissed trails down her neck and chest, spending adequate time and attention to each breast before continuing his journey._

_He kissed up her legs and midriff, carefully avoiding her center. The sounds she was making encouraged him- the small gasps she made when he hit a particularly sensitive area, the moans she released when he nibbled on those spots, the sighs she let out when he paused to take her in. "Castle," she loved this but she was getting impatient. She needed him._

_He returned to her mouth, caressing her lips with his own, softly. "Are you sure?" he asked, one more time. She nodded, but then, upon realizing he probably couldn't see that, she spoke._

"_Yes." And with the utterance of that simple syllable he was lifting one of her long legs around his waist and entering her._

_She let out a gasp of something like surprise mixed with amazement and satisfaction. How long she had waited to be right here, wrapped up in everything that was him. His leisurely pace quickened and soon he was bringing her to the edge, his given name spilling from her lips as she came. It was not long before he was joining her, one last cry of ecstasy hanging in the air. _

_They were just two people- two shadows._

_The only sounds between them were the sounds of heavy breathing and the ambience of angry cabbies blaring their horns from the street. He rested his damp forehead on hers, a smile breaking the silence. Only one of his smiles could be that damn loud. She could only mirror his expression._

"_That was…" he began, unimpressed with his lack of creative adjectives. _

"_Yeah," she finished for him. "It was." Her lips met his in one last, longing reunion before she let her head fall back to the couch. After a few more minutes of just silence and staring and silence, she spoke again._

"_I love you, too."_

"You said what?" Lanie's interjection jerked Kate out of the memory. The silly grin on her best friend's face did not escape Lanie. When she did not answer, another question happened. "What now?"

"That's what I asked this morning," Kate replied, her smile still etched on to her face.

"_What now?" she asked, rolling over in his arms to face him. At some point in the night they had made it to her bedroom, which is where they were now laying, sheets twisted around their entwined legs. _

"_First things first," he said, nuzzling her neck, his scruff rough against her soft skin, earning a bright smile and a small laugh. "Let's do dinner. With Alexis." It was more or less a question. After a moment's thought, she nodded, pressing her lips to his bare chest._

"_I think I'd like that."_

**So if you've made it this far that means I did something right.  
****I would love it if you dropped a line and told me about it in detail. **

**I would kind of love it a lot.  
I am a review whore, and I'm not going to deny it.**

**I need them to breath, true story.**

**Stay awesome?**

**sof **


	10. About Damn Time

**A new chapter at last! This one is extra-long for all of my loyal reviewers, story alerts, favorites and of course to**

**phalangesbyfive: **** thanks for being awesome and for p****utting up with my ADD, OCD and random urge to quote Oprah (I don't always tell you, but I do it quite often).**

**More smut in this chapter- it deserves its M rating, so if it's not your thing, skip it. I decided to play around with points of view- there is also some father-daughter bonding stuff, some of Alexis and her musings, and a pretty smutty flashback….**

**

* * *

**

"Mathew Gregory was not in the Armed Forces," Ryan said, dropping his findings on Beckett's desk. She sighed, frustrated at yet another dead end.

"Nothing is going to go my way today, is it?" she asked, rhetorically, Ryan just grinned stupidly in response.

"You didn't let me finish, detective," he said. "He wasn't in the Military, but his brother, Joshua Gregory was."

"Any connection to the victim?" she asked, sitting up straighter.

"No, actually after his time serving in the military, he apparently decided he preferred the other side of the law. Josh's alibi would be the five year sentence he's half-finished serving in the Tombs, but," he was quick to throw out the clause before she could get annoyed. "Before his little escapade to the Manhattan H of D, she was living with his brother in a small apartment downtown.

"So Matthew would have easy access to the knife," she caught on, a smile forming on her face.

"I've got a warrant on the way," he told her, before she could give the order. Again she smiled.

"Go treat yourself to a cup of coffee, Ryan. Then go wait for the go by the apartment. Have you heard anything on Matthew?"

"Negative. Espo has his boys on the lookout for him, and he is working on getting in touch with him." Kate nodded.

"Call me as soon as you get the go on the warrant. I want to see the inside of this guy's place for myself."

**-x-**

"Are you pretty confident it's him?" Castle asked. The warrant for the Gregory apartment had come through and she was making her way down Pike Street, strapping on her vest as she walked. Her pace was a brisk one, but that did not deter Castle, who met her stride, adjusting his vest of his own, 'writer' plastered across his chest.

"Pretty damn," she answered, not slowing down.

"Why are we wearing vests?" he asked her, all of a sudden worried. "Is this going to be dangerous?"

"It's protocol, Castle. It's pretty safe to say nobody is there anyways, but we have to be cautious," she answered. "The fact that I let you out of the car should be enough to tell you that. Don't worry; you will make it out with your pretty face intact."

"It's not me I'm worried about," he answered, seriously, placing a hand on her shoulder and forcing her to stop and turn to face him. She punched him in the arm, hard.

"Don't you do that-" she began, torn between being touched at his concern and being annoyed at the situation. "I do not have the time or the patience for this.." she muttered, looking around her, almost self-consciously. "Can we have this conversation later?" He swallowed and nodded. "Good. Now stay behind me, protocol," she reminded, turning to face the apartment door. Esposito and Ryan were waiting on either side of the blue door. She reached into her back pocket, retrieving a piece of paper. With the warrant in hand she rapped on the door. "Matthew Gregory, NYPD, we have a warrant," she shouted, authority oozing from her tone. When no one answered she backed up a little, nodding to Esposito as she pulled her gun from its holster. He nodded back and in response stepped in from of her, kicking the door jam with extreme force, causing the door to fling open. The cops flooded in first, Castle close behind, guns swinging wildly.

Three shouts of 'Clear!' sounded and the team reunited in the center of the apartment. "Espo, Castle, you take the west end," Kate delegated, pointing to the hall that led to the bedroom and bathroom. "Ryan, you take the kitchen, I got the living room," she hurried off, holstering her gun, leaving to room for negotiation. She stepped into the living room, the space separated by a small kitchen counter and the switch from tile to hardwood floor. The Gregory household was by no means a tidy one- but then again she expected nothing less from two sleazy criminals living in the village. Everyday debris times 20 cluttered the floor and table, grime an inch thick on the surface of the cheap furniture.

The plethora of blankets and pillows that decorated the cheap futon told her where Matthew had been living. The dropping under the couch, nestled between used napkins and other waste, told her where the rodents had been living as well.

Other than a TV guide two months old and a unique selection of porn stashed not-so-cleverly between two cushions, she found nothing of interest in the gross habitat, pardon maybe a new appreciation for clean air and comfort in the Hoover sitting at home.

**-x-**

Castle and Esposito were in what one would guess was supposed to be a bedroom. The mattress in the middle of the small room was the only indication that someone actually slept there, though. It was just a mattress- no frame and no box spring, covered in sheets and magazines and other trash. Papers cluttered the floor, along with some clothes that had evidence of being trampled on over a long period of time and a crushed pack of cigarettes. Castle was immediately gravitated towards the desk, a writer's habit, while Espo started shuffling around in a dresser.

"So you gonna tell me what you said to piss her off or am I going to have to harass Lanie about it?" Esposito asked, not looking up from his search.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Castle claimed, giving the surface of the desk a precursory glance. It was mostly bare except for some unpaid bills, a pen that didn't write and a candy wrapper.

"Don't play the dumb card," he warned, looking up. "Beckett wouldn't have sent you in here with me if you hadn't done _something_," he reasoned.

"Being in here isn't a punishment," Castle told him, not understanding. "I like to consider us friends."

"I'm just saying your basing a book off of her, not me. What are you doing in here?"

"We are not attached at the hip, you know. I find it a refreshing change of pace to see other cops in their element. You're not as attractive as she is, but then again there aren't any that are," he reasoned, pointedly.

"Any?" It was then Castle realized the implication of his slip.

"Many, I said many," Castle corrected, although he could tell the detective didn't believe him.

Esposito knew what he heard. He opened his mouth to retort when Castle opened the top drawer of the desk, mouth dropping open. "Esposito-" he said, in a voice that alerted him. "Beckett!" he called out, louder, so that she could hear him through the paper thin walls. She appeared in an instant, making her way over to the writer.

"What?" she asked, making her way over to him. All he did was point into the drawer, and she moved around to his side to get a better view, her hand resting on his shoulder as she looked over him. This did not escape Esposito's attention. Inside the drawer, Beckett saw a white paper towel, stained red through and through. She carefully reached in with a gloved hand and unfolded the napkin to reveal a knife. It was a Mark 3 navy seal knife from the looks of it, complete with toothed edge and metal, gripped handle. Castle felt her grip on his shoulder tighten a little in excitement.

"Get this to Lanie," she told Esposito, who nodded, not bothering to waste time with words. He shot a look at Castle, informing him in one glance that the conversation was not over.

Now he just had to find Ryan and share this knew nugget of knowledge…

**-x-**

Alexis knew something was up. Her dad came home and told her they were going out- they were going out to Kate's.

This was weird.

Not hanging out with Kate, no that had been something she had become accustomed too and rather fond of, but at Kate's apartment?  
That was new.  
In what could only be a very good way.

She selected her outfit carefully before climbing down the steps and waiting for her father, who of course was taking _forever._

**-x-**

It was important to him.  
He had to _look _good.

The evening was not only on in the company of his two favorite women but a big step, more for Kate than him. It was the first sign of actual commitment. When it was just them, anything was fair, but now family was being dragged into it- things were getting serious.

Castle liked this idea.  
A little too much?  
Probably.

He checked himself in the mirror, for maybe the millionth time, readjusting his jacket and fixing the collar of his button up, a pale blue one he had rather favored. He loved that shirt- but his mind liked the possibility of it on her even better. He smiled as he remembered the night before.

_It was amazing.  
She looked amazing, nothing short of beautiful, although he daren't tell her.  
As much as he likes her outfit he quickly decides he likes her out of it even better, hardly able to suppress the smile when he strips her of them. Her mouth can't seem to still, moving anxiously and with fervor, as if he may change his mind. Her excitement makes him damn near giddy, more than happy to assist her in her sudden urge to have him then. They kissed for a long time- the longest he had in years. He had never enjoyed kissing as much as he did with her, and if she hadn't have spoken, he probably would have been content to just appreciate her body that way. "Castle," she said, breathlessly. Her fingers were threaded through his hair and she was using her extraordinary upper body strength to hold him to her. _

_God she was hot when she said his name like that.  
As much as he loved the slow, leisurely pace he was moving, the taste of her skin under his tongue indescribable, he couldn't ignore the need in her airy plea. "You sure?" he asked, one last time. He had to be positive- he had to know she was okay with it. He stopped his ministrations to catch her eye. _

"_Yes," she whispered, caught off guard by his gaze. Despite her insecurity she met it, and he read the truth, right there in the emerald color. He caressed her leg gently before he lifted it around his waist, entering her smoothly. The small gasp she released was an aphrodisiac to him- he couldn't get enough of the sounds she made. It was right then he made is life goal to elicit those sounds again. _

"_God," he heard her gasp again when he nipped at her neck, paying special attention to the spot under her jaw that had her tugging at his hair earlier. He was lost in her and the next thing he knew they were rolling over the edge together, each other's names coming out it relieved cries, shattering the serenity the night provided. He floated back to himself, resting his forehead against hers, perspiration slick between them_

"_That was…" he couldn't pick a word, and after a moment of futile searching, he decided it didn't exist, and the 'it' just couldn't be described in words. She seemed to understand this conclusion. "Yeah," he heard her reply. It was hard to hear her whispers over the sounds of his heart beating, soft but ever present thuds as it threatened to burst from the ribcage that bound it. The rise and fall of her chest slowed and he took a minute to admire her under the kiss of the street lights illuminating her. She was gorgeous even in the orange glow. He smiled up at her, content to do just that. For once words didn't matter- he knew the second he spoke they would be the wrong ones, no matter what he said. _

_There were the rare occasions when words wouldn't help him, and even rarer when he realized this.  
This was one of those times.  
So he said nothing._

_What he hadn't recognized was how much he was saying in that smile.  
He realized it when she spoke the same volumes in a smile not unlike his own. _

"_I love you, too," she whispered to him, her breath yet to return to her. He smiled, remembering oh-so-vividly what he had told her earlier. She asked him to love her. As if he didn't. That alone proved she felt the same, but it didn't take the sweetness out of hearing it from her lips, even as breathless as she was. His smile broadened and he kissed her bottom lip, languidly and almost lazily. _

_He had half-carried her to the bedroom, but only made it to the threshold before she was up, awake and ready for round two. Her lips met his with revived passion, leading him once again backwards, giggling and stumbling over furniture as they went. He felt the bed with the back of his knees, and before she could push him onto it he placed a hand under the back of hers, using it as leverage to lift her and toss her onto the bed. She laughed, falling onto the mattress with enthusiasm. He grinned before climbing on after her, catching her and claiming her laughs and her lips as his own. He found her ticklish spots on accident on the couch and he made a point to memorize them for this very reason. She made it very obvious that she had been paying attention to his ticklish spots, too, when she _

"Dad!" Alexis's voice sounding from downstairs jerked him from his memory. He tousled his hair a little bit, allowing one more precursory examination in the mirror before heading down.

"You ready?" he asked, grabbing his keys.

"Have been for the past 20 minutes, dad," she reminded him, not amused, her arms crossed.

"First of all, it is common knowledge that you are always ready 15 minutes early for everything," he told her, leading her out. "And secondly, I think you've been hanging out with Kate too much."

Kate. This set off another alarm for Alexis.  
It wasn't like a fire alarm or anything, just an alarm.  
A 'dad is calling Kate by her first name and we are going to her house and he most definitely didn't come home last night' sort of alarm. She made a mental note to come up with an acronym for that later.

"Why are we going to Kate's?" she asked, curiously, during the drive there.

"Because she makes this killer homemade ravioli that you need to be exposed to," he told her. She accepted this as the only answer she was going to get.

**-x-**

Kate didn't know why she had agreed to this.

Alexis, yes.  
Dinner, yes.  
Rick, yes please.  
But at her place?

Whose idea was that again?  
Certainly not hers.  
Or was it?  
No, she had _good _ideas.

She ran around her apartment, cleaning it, trying to make it look like someone actually lived there. She lit some incents, put on some music, and started the stove. Ravioli, she said.

It was her mother's recipe, and her grandmother's before her.  
She dug out the old recipe box she had buried under bills in her kitchen junk drawer, fingering the box lovingly before opening it. She hadn't opened this box in years. Many, many years. She traced the top with a finger before opening it, inhaling the smell from inside. It was something Liz Taylor, surely.

Kate's grandmother always wore it, and even though it was an old joke between Kate and her mother, they both loved that. It still carried that smell after all these years, something that Kate smiled at.

After she got over the initial awe she began to shuffle the cards around in a desperate search for the ravioli one. She found it at last, pulling it out and squinting to read the tight, small cursive scribbled on there. And so the cooking began.

Seven on the dot, a knock sounded at the door. What was it with him and timeliness lately? She thought to herself, setting down the wooden spoon she was wielding and opening the door. Rick stood, grinning, and beside him, a similar expression of joy on her face, was Alexis.

**-x-**

Castle absorbed the sight of her. She was dressed simply in a navy sweater and jeans, her hair pinned up in a twist that was probably an accident but perfect anyways, strands escaping the clip to frame her face. "Kate," he greeted, partly to be polite but mostly because he loved saying her name.

"Castle," she said, much to his chagrin. "Alexis!" the greeting towards the redhead came out much brighter. "Please, come in," she stepped aside and let them in. As he passed her, Rick reached out with his thumb, wiping away a smear of crème-colored sauce from her cheek, something that probably happened when she was cooking. He sucked his thumb into his mouth, eyes never leaving hers.

"Alfredo," he said, tasting the sauce. "It's good," he complimented her. She socked him in the arm, a smile breaking despite herself. Alexis, of course, saw the whole exchange, and knew right then.

She wasn't _stupid. _She had had her suspicions for a very long time, and she was just counting down the days until this to actually happen. This casual display of affection- paired with the fact that she hadn't shot him for it, just confirmed her thoughts.

"About damn time!" Alexis said, suddenly, snapping both of them back to planet earth. Castle raised an eyebrow. He had heard Alexis cursed once, twice tops, in her entire life, and that includes the slip ups before she knew what words were socially acceptable.

"Excuse me?" he asked, not only amused by her sudden language but confused at her statement.

"You two. Is that what this is about?" she asked, not needed or expecting an answer. "It's about time." Castle looked from Kate, who was blushing adorably, to Alexis, to Kate and back again. He opened his mouth, not sure what to say in his defense, but then stopped trying. It was Kate who spoke first.

"Funny, that is exactly what Lanie said," she told Alexis, still a little pink in the cheeks but smiling nonetheless. The elephant walked out at that moment, and that left more room for casual conversation and comfort. "I don't have a television, but you two sit and I will be right back, the ravioli should be just about done." She disappeared into the kitchen and left the two to themselves.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Alexis turned to her dad. She wasn't angry, no, she was too happy to be angry.

"This is me, telling you," Castle said. "That's what all this is."

"Since when?" It was weird to most but she and her father always shared everything. She didn't exactly have a mother around that she could share with, and her father had always been easy to talk to. Likewise, he was always open and honest with her. It was like an unspoken pact between them. She couldn't help but be a little put off he hadn't confided in her.

"Officially?" he asked her. "Yesterday." He was careful to mention the time of day (or night, rather) and the implication behind it. Somehow, even through the filter Alexis, as perceptive as she was, picked up on the indication.

"My therapist thanks you for that," she told him.

"Hey, I pay for that therapist, I can screw you up all I want," he told her, pointedly, before breaking into a smile. "I wanted to be sure this was something we were ready to do before I brought you into it," he admitted. He had to be truthful, he liked their open policy. He didn't like keeping things from her, not ever. "Forgive me?"

"Considering how unselfish your reasoning was, yes," she told him, mirroring his smile. "But now I know and you have to share her," she told him, smiling wickedly.

"I think it would be him and I sharing you, Lex," Kate walked in, balancing three bowls of ravioli.

"I'm impressed, Detective," Castle said, leaping up to relieve her of two of the bowls.

"I had to get through college somehow," she told him, sitting down beside him with a bowl of her own. The three of them made easy conversation, avoiding work and school altogether, simply enjoying each other's company, Sinatra in the background, something Castle made a mental note to tease her about later, and the amazing Alfredo Ravioli.

Kate was struck at how well this was working them. Not just them as in the two of them but all of them together. She was afraid things would be awkward and weird, but Alexis didn't miss a beat.

Alexis was struck at how well Kate and her father were interacting- things seemed so…normal. It was easy to smile and joke and laugh. It was easy.

Rick was struck at how good of a cook Kate proved to be. That he could get used to.

* * *

**For those who don't know, I accept anonymous reviews, so anyone is welcome to leave a comment, good or bad!  
I don't bite, I promise, and I meet some pretty fabulous people that way! **

**So let me know what you liked the most.  
More Alexis?  
Smut?  
Flashbacks?**

**I crave your input, I really do.**

**Now susanatc, stop reading this random blathering and writewritewrite!**

**Reviews are appreciated greatly ****  
sof  
**


	11. Sax Appeal

**Susanatc asked for it.  
You got it.  
Blame her. **

**The newest chapter- now I tried to keep it from getting TOO incredibly cheesy, I hope it's not too bad.  
This chapter is just full of fluff and sunshine so if you're one of those people who can't stand happiness, you are most definitely reading the wrong story. Seriously, how did you make it all the way to chapter 11?**

**Another thing of some importance, there are POV changes, I hope I've made them clear enough. :)**

**Anyways, thanks sooo much for the reviews, they have been **_**most **_**encouraging, and I can't wait to see the response on this new installment.  
Keep it up kids.**

**Thanks to Bugg for help picking out an appropriate song, and to Emily for putting up with me.  
And of course to Susanatc for the wonderful update. **

**And now…**

**

* * *

**

**Sax Appeal**

The night had set in fully- the last traces of the sun disappeared for the moon to take over its shift.

Alexis was curled up on the couch, fast asleep. The three had completely lost track of time and the late hour caught up with the young girl. She didn't mind in the least- Kate's couch was extremely comfortable, and the sound of her father's voice was like instant sleep to her- so calming and relaxing. It worked like a charm when she was a toddler with a nightmare, and now was no different.

"She's so cute," Kate observed, grinning as she watched the redhead.

"That's supposed to be my line," Rick told her, tearing his eyes from his sleeping daughter to the woman beside him. She was sitting now in the armchair parallel to the couch he and Alexis were occupying- she had moved so the girl could stretch out. He looked back nervously from her to Alexis and back. "This is going to sound really presumptuous but-" before he had a chance to finish, she interrupted him.

"You guys should stay here tonight. You've had wine, and it's getting late," she told him. He smiled his gratitude before returning his loving gaze towards his daughter. He liked the idea far too much to mention that they took a cab.

"She just looks so peaceful. I would hate to wake her up." Kate smiled her agreement. Castle closed his eyes and listened to Sinatra's sultry voice, erupting low and smooth from the speakers. He had been the ambience of the evening, playing in the background of every joke he told. As worried as he had been about the dinner tonight, things had worked out surprisingly…well.

Kate and Alexis had always gotten along. They were both adorably shy at first, as always, carefully easing into the careful conversation that suited them. He could tell Alexis was nervous- she respected and although she would never say as much, admired the detective. He could tell Kate was nervous because she kept pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and there was always a thoughtful pause before she answered. She liked Alexis, of this Rick was sure, and that showed itself in her wariness. Like she was afraid of screwing up something great. He smiled at the sight of them after they had grown more comfortable- laughing and joking, about this and that or the other thing. They complimented each other in a way he couldn't help but notice.

It wasn't like the other women he dated- taking them out, bringing them around only when Alexis was a safe distance away. When she was a child Alexis thought he was ashamed of her.

_Ashamed.  
_Of _her. _

It damn near broke his heart when her little 8-year-old self told him this between sobs, thee innocent Monkey Bunkey suffering the wrath of her iron-tight grip on his battered left arm.

He had to sit her down, a tiny little thing in a giant's armchair, and explain why he never introduced her to his girlfriends. Why she never met them. Why he never brought them home. None of them were special.

Even with Gina he sheltered her, the stepmother-daughter relationship never moving past polite formalities, never extending boundaries and never breeching what was not only Gina's but his comfort zone. But he found this so much...different. He wanted Kate to be a part of Alexis's life just as much as he wanted her in his.

In a very very big way.

"You there?" Kate's voice broke his pensive thought. He could tell even before cracking open an eyelid to see that she was smiling- the amused expression left a pleasant infliction in her voice- an infliction he could place anywhere. He swore he could tell without looking the eye roll as well. This thesis has yet to be proven, though.

He opened his eyes and smiled at the sight of her. She was curled up, legs tucked underneath her, in the armchair juxtaposed to the couch, clutching the half-full wine glass by the bowl and swishing it lightly before sipping at it. Her green eyes had a spark of light in them- it may have been the dim lighting in the room, but Castle fancied himself an alternative explanation.

"Present," he told her, eyeing her, the corner of his mouth lifting devilishly.

"What?" she asked, not missing the glint in his eye and the smile that never led to something she would like.

"Nothing," he said, dismissively, knowing she wouldn't let it go.

"What?" she asked again, as loudly and authoritatively as she dared without waking the sleeping girl beside him.

"How cheesy would it be if I asked you to dance?" he asked her, studying her reaction.

"How cheesy would it be if I answered with 'but there's no music,'" she responded, her voice raising a few octaves to mock the cliché movie quote.

"Touché," Castle said. "But alas, we do have music. The dancing kind, even." He watched her as he could see her resolve fold. The idea was growing on her, he realized. Her brow relaxed and a small, agreeing smile threatened to break on her face.

"Why would you want to dance with me, Castle?" she asked, mischievously, again pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

"Now who's being corny?" he asked right back, and at last the smile she managed to repress broke. Without another word he stood, careful not to upset Alexis, and held out a hand towards Kate, pulling her onto her feet. In the same fluid motion he pulled her into him, and she had to place a hand on his chest to catch herself. Instead of moving it to his shoulder Castle covered it with his own, holding it in place.

-x-

The tracks changed, she could hear the familiar shuffle of the multi-cd stereo, and a new song began to play.

It was the same mix of smooth jazz and an almost bluesy symphony that reflected most of Sinatra's songs, accompanied not long after by his rich, charming voice. Kate recognized it as Summer Wind, one of her all-time favorites. They began to sway with the trumpets and sax, and mostly with his enchanting words. She dared hold his gaze at first, content to just watch them watch her. She let him lead, much to his surprise, letting him guide her around her small living room, holding her against him. After a few long moments she rest her head on his shoulder, taking comfort in the beat of his heart under her hand. She was glad from this position he couldn't see her foolish smile. She thought about how ridiculous this all was- the dancing- tucking her face into his neck to stifle her laughter.

"What?" he asked her, his voice low. She was not as good at hiding her humor as she thought, apparently.

"Nothing," she said, knowing as well as he before that he wouldn't let it go.

"What?" he asked her, and he laughed at the déjà vu.

"This is so ludicrous," she said, lifting her head from his chest and grinning despite herself.

"What- our dancing or the fact the you like it so much?" he asked her, earning another laugh from her.

"Both." She replied simply, content to rest her head back in that crook where his neck met his chest.

He inhaled her scent, relishing in the smell of sweet summer cherries that assaulted his olfactory system. She smelled so good, and in a fleeting thought he wondered what shampoo she used. In an equally quick thought he wondered when he could find that out. "If you try to spin me around I will mimic gagging sounds and kick you out," she warned, this time without lifting her head.

"Would you really wake Alexis up because I am a hopeless romantic?" he asked her, pretending to be offended.

"Oh no, Alexis could stay," she told him.

"I knew you liked her better than me," he pouted only slightly. It was then he felt her soft lips on his neck, planting a brief kiss there. The simple gesture sent a shiver up and down his spine. It struck him odd how…intimate this whole thing was- even more so than the sex.

This was so personal.  
So close.  
So open.  
She was opening.

And then the song was over.

They broke away maybe a good thirty seconds after the song ended, neither wanting to end the moment and neither wanting to admit so out loud. "We should get some sleep. Knowing Alexis she will have us up by the crack of dawn," he told her. She pulled away almost coyly, leading him to her room to call it a night.

"Wait," he stopped short. As much as he would love to follow her into her bedroom, the small body sleeping on the couch made him hesitate. "Maybe I should sleep out here tonight. I don't think Alexis _or_ her therapist can handle the trauma if she sees us walk out of the same room with bedhead _quite_ yet."

As disappointed as this made her, she could see where he was coming from. "How about," she said, stepping closer into him, regaining the proximity they shared dancing. "I break out the sleeping bags and we all camp out here."

He couldn't help but grin at her idea. 20 minutes later their casual dinner-turned romantic evening morphed into a revival of childhood memories as they both laid out sleeping bags. Kate, with her one pillow, Castle with his six.

"Have enough pillows?" Kate asked, turning to face him. The candles had been blown out, the incense diminished, and the lights off completely, cloaking them in the dark and the familiar glow of the city below them.

"No," he replied simply, nearly completely hidden by the white cushions. He flopped around dramatically, no doubt for her benefit, before at last digging himself out of the hole of pillows and facing her, cradling one of them to his chest, in a manner that bordered child-like desperation. "Never enough pillows."

She responded by snuggling deeper into her sleeping bag, pulling her pillow with her, and scooting, with great effort, as she was lying horizontally, closer towards him. Even with two layers of fabric and warmth to separate them, she longed for the contact. He scooted closer as well, wiggling his body, again, dramatically, until they were touching. He retracted a hand from the warm depths of the bag and traced a finger down her face before leaning over and claiming a kiss, lingering a moment before returning to his pillow pile.

Again, she smiled.  
She was doing a lot of that lately.  
Smiling.

-x-

She woke just as she had fallen asleep, on the couch.

This would not be unusual, not if the couch was brown and leather.  
Not if the couch smelled like Old Spice and Coast soap.  
Not if the smell of bacon and the sounds of her father's singing was in the air.

But none of this was the case.

No, she was on a black couch.  
That smelled like Cherry incense and Pantene.  
With nothing but silence in the air.

It was then the night came back to her.

Kate's, she was at Kate's.  
She had fallen asleep here?  
Yes, asleep.  
Apparently her father didn't see fit to wake her.

She peered over the edge of the couch and saw them on the floor beside each other. They were in separate sleeping bags, yes, but the scene was too cute anyways. It looked like the sleeping bag swallowed the detective whole, nothing but the top of her head sticking out from the top, and her dad, spooning her unabashedly, his mouth hanging slightly open in sleep.

She was happy for them, she really was. Kate was so good for her dad, and he was good for her, too. They worked, somehow. They shouldn't, be any means, but somehow…somehow they did. Something about a panda named YinYin and chemistry, she thought to herself. However it was, she was happy.

For him.  
For her.  
For them.

Alexis smiled and returned to the couch, readjusting the throw over her and snuggling deep into it. She would be perfectly content to just lie here a moment longer. Just a moment longer…

And the next thing she knew, sleep was claiming her again.

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**The title is my favorite so far. I just crack myself up sometimes.  
Anyways I will now proceed to drop to my knees and beg you wonderful readers to review.  
Seriously, it means the world. **

**I eat reviews for breakfast.  
So feed me?**

**3 softer**

_**Ps- susanatc, as soon as you review, you get your butt to writing.  
Pleaseandthankyou.  
love, softer.**_


	12. Floors

**Emily knows this, but to those of you who don't, I'm extremely iffy about this chapter. I hope it meets everyones expectations :)**

**And this time you have to read to the end to get the thank you's.**

**Chapter 12: **

"Esposito-" Beckett shouted across the bullpen as she entered that morning. "Where are we on tracking Matthew Gregory?" Her tone told him she was not in a very good mood. Esposito and Ryan leapt out of their seats, abandoning their coffee to launch into their findings.

"No word on the man yet, but I have my boys sweeping the streets-" Esposito began, speaking quickly. A frustrated Beckett huffed, irritably, sinking into her desk chair. She took a minute to compose herself, running a hand through her golden brown hair, releasing another low breath, heavy with exhaustion.

She had gotten great sleep last night.  
The past two days, as a matter of fact, despite the hardwood floor she slept on.  
The best sleep she had gotten in years.  
So why was she so tired?

_I'm tired of this damn case, _she told herself. It put her in the foulest of moods, despite her pleasant morning.

A shuffling sound in the quiet precinct indicated the arrival of Castle. She looked at him, caught his eye for the briefest of seconds, and pretended not to notice his arrival. Why, she wasn't sure. Not an hour ago she was smiling and joking with him over orange juice.

A part of her wanted to curl up into his warm body and let him wrap his arms around her.  
Breath in the mixture of Coast soap, manly body wash and whatever was uniquely him.  
The rest of her wanted to push away.  
The latter was something she promised herself she wouldn't do.

"Woah-" Esposito caught the look they shared. "What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," she dismissed, as she saw Castle sit in his chair, slowly, as if he wasn't sure he should.

"Yesterday you could hardly keep your hands to yourself," Esposito continued, obviously not ready to drop the subject. "Now you can't even look at him?"

"Was it really that bad?" Ryan caught on, asking Beckett specifically. The implication of his words were very clear. Before shooting them both very dirty looks, Kate continued.

"Ryan, I want you to release John Marcus," Beckett said, boldness erupting without warning. She wasn't sure if her brain had caught up with her mouth yet.

"Excuse me?" Ryan asked, her words distracting him from his joke.

"You heard me. Let him go."

"Ahh," Ryan caught on. "You want to bait Gregory?"

"They were partners in crime for a long time. Word got out, surely, maybe he's hiding until Marcus is in the clear. Release Marcus from holding, do whatever paperwork, but I want a tail on him," she delegated. Ryan nodded, pen and pad in hand, and rushed off in the direction of holding. "Esposito- have you heard from Lanie about the knife?" to this, Esposito shook his head.

Kate felt her mood begin to change from irritation to a lighter, more calm sort of feeling. "I will go talk to her, Espo, you get started on that paperwork, yeah?" she said, now grinning at her own joke as she stood and made her way to the lift. When she found herself waiting at the doors alone, she looked back. Castle was still sitting in his seat, looking kind of hurt. "You coming Castle?" she asked, a little more annoyed that intended. It was easier to sound annoyed with him when she actually was.

Castle leapt up and caught the elevator, slipping inside. Once the doors were closed, he turned to her. He opened his mouth but before words came, she spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry," she said, sincerely. She hadn't meant to be so rude earlier. "I didn't mean to-" she began to explain. She reached towards him, craving the feeling of him beneath her fingers- desperate for the odd sort of comfort she found in it.

She wasn't used to wanting someone.  
Needing someone.

Castle smiled, relieved to find her cold attitude towards him a farce. "Katie- Kate," he said, grabbing a gentle hold of her hands, holding them where she had rest them on his chest. He braved a step closer. He had exactly eight floors to tell her what he had to say. "Relax, Okay?" it was more of a plea than a question. He watched her whole body ease, and he swore she lost a good few inches. He pulled her into him, seriously pushing his luck, wrapping his arms around her small frame as he squished her into him.

**Seven floors.**

This is exactly what she had in mind earlier, she thought to herself, as she inhaled the concoction of _him _that had embedded itself into her brain. She needed this.

"Last night was amazing," he told her. He was mumbling into her hair, and his voice box was vibrating in his chest so she could feel it, but she didn't mind. She actually liked it a little. She felt his lips at her temple. "Please, don't worry so much. Just relax." He pulled away and looked at her weary face.

**Six floors.**

"We okay?" he asked her. She grinned a little, doing her best to memorize the feeling of his arms around her, before she broke away. She planted a small kiss on his lips. It lasted a mere millisecond, far too short, in his opinion, but the meaning in it was not missed by either of them.

**Four floors.**

"Yeah," she told him. She felt like someone had just come and flushed out all the crap she had been feeling that morning.

They were both facing the doors, ready for them to open, a good few inches between them. It was then he reached across the invisible barrier that was social acceptability and grabbed her hand, linking his first two digits with her last two. She let him. "Hey Castle?" she asked, not looking away from the elevator doors.

**Three floors.**

"Hmm?" he asked, mood obviously cheerful.

**Two floors.**

"Ever do the PDA thing at work again, and I will break your fingers," she said, a false coldness revealing itself in her tone. The tiny smile pulling at the corner of her lip was the only indication she wasn't truly angry.

**One Floor.**

"Right." He dropped her hand, after running a thumb over the soft flesh of her palm.

Ding.  
The steel doors parted and the couple walked out, the inches between them restored, and social acceptability regained. No one would suspect a thing.

The morgue doors opened to reveal Lanie. How she knew they were coming was unbeknownst to Kate, but the way she was standing there, staring at the door, arms crossed, a smug smile already on her face… It was off-putting.

"Kate. Castle." Lanie greeted, smiling like a fool.

"Lanie," Beckett replied, warily, unsure of what was to come.

"Are you going to come out with it or am I going to have to withhold evidence again?" she asked. Castle watched, slightly bemused at the two friends. How they were friends beat him- they were nothing alike and yet they fit so flawlessly together. He was more than happy to just sit there and watch their interaction- he found it all quite fascinating.

"There is nothing to tell that I haven't already told you," Kate told her. That got Castle's attention. They then proceeded to have an eye conversation that lasted about two seconds, and Lanie grabbed a file from her desk.

"Your blade was a match for the murder weapon," she said, handing the file to her friend, who flipped it open to the first page. "Teeth marks matched at every place, and the nick in the bone, along with the copper selenium compound, matched the knife you found in the Gregory apartment. I am running the handle for prints now, but the lab is bogged down in a very serious way," Lanie informed her.

"What about the blood?" Castle asked, surprising them both. They turned to face him.

"What?" they both asked it in union.

"Well if you look here," Castle pointed to the picture of the knife that sat in the now open folder, bringing him closer to Beckett. "The hilt is practically non-existent on this thing. Think about it-

Gregory throws Wayne down, pulls out the knife and brings it down. Once, twice, over and over and over again. Emotions are running high, his palms start to sweat. His grip is slipping but he doesn't really notice nor care- he's blinded by the rage that's consuming him. Then his hand has slipped so far its pushed past the sad excuse of a hilt and the blade is cutting into his palm, slicing open a fresh wound. The next thing he knows, Wayne is dead on the ground, ten or so different open, bleeding holes in his abdomen and chest, and Gregory is holding the knife, his hand now bleeding freely and mixing with his victims. Wayne is dead, the deed is done."

Kate was absorbing his words. It didn't matter what it was, he could make even the bloodiest of murders beautiful. She hated how his words affected her, however simple they were. Yet she loved it. Something about the right words in the right order made her heart skip around. Castle was very good at putting the right words in the right order.

"So while you're waiting for prints to come back, run the blood," he finished, shrugging.

"What?" this time it was just Lanie who asked. It seemed to be the only word she knew.

"I mean I know we don't have DNA, but the man's got a record so his blood type is on file," Castle explained further, now taking the file into his own hands for a better look. "Wayne is AB neg, Gregory is O positive- just filter the blood and use an elimination sample from Wayne to single out any foreign type. Run a quick ABO typing screen and boom. Answer." Again he shrugged at the dumbfounded look Lanie was giving him. "It will be enough to get a warrant on Gregory's blood for a DNA profile."

By this time Kate had zoned out completely- she loved Lanie to death, but when the science of it all came in to play, she tuned out of the conversation. Maybe it was the details of death that got her. Maybe it was the fact that she nearly failed biology freshman year of high school.

"That may be the hottest thing I have ever heard you say," Lanie told him, finally shutting her gaping mouth. "I should have jumped you when I had the chance," at that flippant comment, Kate tuned right back in. "I will start running the ABO now- he Castle-" she said, taking the file back. "First- thanks. Seriously. The whole smarts thing? Hot. Secondly, I think if you hurry, you may be able to tag along on the tail Ryan's putting on Marcus," Lanie grinned wickedly when Castle darted out of the room.

Kate looked at Lanie, sideways. "There is no way in hell he's going to be able to tag along on the tail," she told her friend. As if Lanie didn't already know.

"No, but it gives you a full ten minutes for you to spill the beans. Fifteen if Ryan argues with him a little."

"Lanie-"

"I live vicariously through you, honey. I need the play-by-play to get my fix."

"Okay, you ready?" Kate asked, already smiling at the memory. She lifted herself effortlessly onto the nearest vacant slab and crossed her legs Indians-style.

"No- let me get my Rasinettes," Lanie said, scurrying off to find the chocolate coated treats before hoping onto her regular table opposite Beckett.

"You should really invest in one of those couches," Kate pointed out, reaching over the space between them to silently demand a Rasinette.

"Okay, begin- talk quickly and don't leave a dirty detail out," Lanie moved the box of Rasinettes out of Kate's reach.

"And the clean ones?"

"I don't care about those so much," Lanie dismissed with a wave of her hand.

And with that, Kate began.

* * *

**So? You made it this far, you may as well review.**

**I hope the science stuff isn't too confusing!**

**And the thank you's**

**To Andrea, for helping me out with the title, and for not actually calling me a hoe. And not meaning it.**

**To Susanatc, who has yet to update**

**and to Hemily, my love, for being my cornfield. **

**Review? **

**Who wants to see Alexis back?**

**And please don't hesitate to PM me, I love talking to my readers :)**


	13. Monster Toast

**Chapter 13- Monster Toast**

**Lets jump right in with the story telling today, shall we kids?**

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_The sun peeked its large yellow head over the city, the buildings and skyscrapers basking in its fresh morning glow. The morning fog cleared up, leaving its dewy path behind as a reminder of its existence before nature gave in to the inevitable day. The same orange light seeped into Kate Beckett's apartment, filtering through the blinds uninvited and pouring over the three sleeping bodies. Two on the floor- one merely a shapeless sleeping bag, the other obviously a man, his head and feet sticking out of the small cot. The third body was on the couch, a young redhead, one arm dangling perilously off the edge of the sofa._

_Kate awoke, no longer able to prolong the inevitable, letting her eyes open and stretching her neck to see above her bag and take in the scene around her. The soft snore coming from the man beside her told her he was still sleeping soundly. He had stretched almost completely out of his bag, his arm escaping its warm confines and draping over her waist, pulling her into him even through the sleeping bag. The six pillows he had been so insistent were imperative to his sleeping patterns were strewn all about- he was only using one- cradling it with the arm not wrapped around her to his head. She made a mental note to mock him about it later and took a moment to snuggle into his arms before looking up. Alexis, however, was wide awake. She noticed Kate's open eyes and waved the hand that was dangling, lazily. "Morn," the teen mumbled, not quite ready to form proper words. _

_Kate all of a sudden felt very embarrassed, as if she was caught doing something wrong. She mumbled a sorry and tried to slip out of Castle's arms, for Alexis's benefit, something about a therapist coming to mind. Little Castle just let out a light chuckle. _

"_Don't be," Alexis said, smiling. "He looks so happy," she told Kate, nodding to her father. Kate looked at the sleeping man, and she had to agree. She had never heard of someone actually smiling in their sleep, but sure enough, he was. He looked adorable. And very, very content. It was that, along with Alexis's…approval? Consent? That had her relaxing back into his hold._

"_He does," she agreed aloud._

"_You should have seen yourself," Alexis said, still smiling, eyes half-lidded as she fought sleeps gravitational pull. Despite common belief, she, like her father, was _not _a morning person._

_Again, Kate felt the blood rushing to her face, and again Alexis laughed. "We should get up," Kate said, hating the way the words tasted. She was so comfortable. The teen winced but nodded her head. It still wasn't ten minutes later until they forced themselves up, Alexis abandoning the throw she had draped over her small frame and Kate slipped stealthily from Castle's warm embrace, dreading the loss when she was free. "Breakfast?" she asked Alexis, who nodded and made her way to Kate's kitchen._

_The adventure into the fridge turned out to be a huge disappointment. She had orange juice, coffee, and that was about it. "We will just have to get a little creative," Alexis declared, taking charge. Kate, not entirely sure about this creativity' Alexis was exclaiming about, nodded warily. _

"_Okay," she said, equally as hesitant. "What did you have in mind?"_

_Twenty minutes later they had scrounged up breakfast- bagels, topped with heavy amounts of Nutella, one of Beckett's only vice's-Nutella covered-anything and a good book-So that was one thing she always had on hand. Kate was toasting the bagels to warm perfection, and beside her Alexis was sitting atop the counter, applying the hazelnut spread generously, her feet swinging as they two women talked. "I still can't believe you have never tried Nutella," Kate said, for maybe the third time._

_Alexis swiped a drop of the brown, edible gold and popped it into her mouth. "I feel like my dad has deprived me of something great," she said, earning a laugh from the older woman. Talking, laughing- being. It was easier than she thought it would be._

"_When I was younger, my mom would make the biggest breakfast- she was all about it. Eggs, bacon, pancakes. The whole omelet." Alexis snorted in laughter at the detective's pun. Kate bowed her head, hiding a smile of her own. "That was bad. I'm sorry."_

"_No wonder my dad likes you so much," Kate caught the teenager's eye for a split second before resuming her toasting. _

"_I think I have some O.J. in here somewhere," she lost herself in the refrigerator, searching for something to drink. The coffee was brewing, but little castle needed something and orange juice just sounded so good. "No, but my mom had the best breakfasts. There was this one time on my birthday and she actually did these chocolate bowls filled with cereal. It was wicked cool." She returned, orange juice in hand, along with some cups of applesauce she found in the door._

"_That sounds really cool. My mom never really cooks. I'm not sure if she knows how to work an oven, to be honest. Frozen waffles, though- She's real good at those. And room service. My dad has always been the cook- he loves it. That's why he had me, you know," Kate gave the redhead a quizzical look. "I am both legally and emotionally obligated to try his experiments. I have no choice." Kate laughed._

"_Yes, well you should consult somebody about that. I'm sure you could have some sort of document drawn. I could give you the names of some great lawyers."_

"_My dad used to do Monster Toast with me when I was little."_

"_Monster Toast?"_

"_Every Tuesday morning, I would come down and there it would be. It was just melted butter with food coloring, but man was it fun. We would draw silly faces or monsters or whatever on the bread and then toast it. Boom. Monster Toast._

_Kate was touched by the little story, struck by Castle's life beyond what she knew. All the things she had yet to learn._

"_Hey-" she said, putting down the bagel she was holding. I have butter. And I know I have food coloring around here somewhere." Alexis's face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. _

"_Really?" she asked, her voice raising a few octaves in pure childish glee. Kate felt similar feelings rising in her own chest._

"_Really really."_

"Do you mean to tell me that _you, _Kate Beckett, sat down with a teenager and made monster toast?" Lanie interrupted. For some reason, her morning with Alexis was much harder to share than her evening with Castle the other night. Lanie could tell this, which made the story all that more touching. She was in awe of how much her friend had opened up in the last week or so. It wasn't easy, she could tell. It took Beckett a whole damn of a lot to get to this point, but it was happening much sooner and nicer than she could ever have imagined. Kate Beckett a year ago would have retreated and repressed and pushed away but if Lanie Parish knew anything about Kate Beckett, it was that her best friend was one hard-headed woman.

"Yes. And it was delicious. Of course Castle had to come in and ruin it," Kate explained, only feigning her annoyance.

"_How are my two favorite ladies doing this fine morning?" Castle asked. It was clear he hadn't fully woken, for he was yawning and rubbing his eyes or any remaining eye monkeys before he opened them to. Kate watched him look from Alexis to her and back again, and then eying the mess made by the morning madness. Kate looked at Alexis- the girl was absolutely covered in mutli-colored butter. She actually laughed at the sight- and then the realization- she probably didn't look much different. They had both gotten really into the toast-making process, and maybe a little carried away. _

"_Castle," Kate greeted, looking like a deer in the headlights. "You're awake."_

"_It was kind of hard to sleep with the circus moving through the kitchen," he smiled, seeming to have finally pieced together the situation._

_Food coloring.  
Half a loaf of bread.  
Butter.  
Half a loaf of bread already toasted._

_It was Monster Toast. _

_Again, she watched his gaze move from her to Alexis, their mess, and back again. "You're making Monster Toast?" he asked. He sounded hurt, almost. Crestfallen? Doubt struck deep in Kate's core. She didn't think this through. What if she was totally disrupted the sacred rituals of Father and Daughter? What if he was offended, what if she overstepped?_

_God, she overstepped._

"_You're making Monster Toast and you didn't wake me?" he finished, a smile breaking on his phony 'I'm a puppy who just got kicked' face. She hated him. She smacked him in the shoulder when he approached her to prove it. He said nothing but came closer still, then dipped is finger in a puddle of blue colored butter and traced a stream down her nose. _

_She went cross eyed a moment, looking at the mark it left behind, and returned them to their normal frontal setting to see his face mere centimeters from hers.  
And then there weren't any at all._

"_I'm still in the room," Alexis said, as politely as she could from atop the counter._

_It was only a few seconds after that did Castle pull away. "Good Morning," he told her, murmuring it because he could and they were close enough. Despite Alexis's present, Kate felt herself smiling back at him. _

"_Morning," she murmured back. His arm snaked around her as he faced the counter to examine her and Alexis's handiwork. _

"_This isn't have bad, for an amateur," he told her, causing her to turn her head upward, questioningly. _

"_What do you mean, and _amateur_?" she asked him, offended. "Are you questioning my Monster-drawing abilities?"_

"_Dad likes to consider himself the Leonardo of Monster-making," Alexis explained. It was Castle's turn to whip his head around. _

"_Picasso, I am the Picasso of Monster-toastery," he corrected. She smiled at him, and he returned it. "Picasso once said, he said '__My mother said to me, "If you are a soldier, you will become a general. If you are a monk, you will become the Pope." Instead, I was a painter, and became Picasso.' The same could be said for me."_ _ At this, both women rolled their eyes._

"_Well I will have you know, Mr. Pablo, that I was head of my class in finger painting in the first grade," Kate told him, matter of fact-ly. "I'm extremely practiced in the ar-"_

_She couldn't finish, for Castle shoved a piece of toast in her mouth. _

"And so that's why you're beaming like an idiot?" Lanie asked her, when it was clear the story was done. Beckett was done sharing. A nod was her response. "Well damn. I was hoping for some morning sex or a shower, or even pancakes!"

"Ew to the first two things, Alexis was there. That's a where I draw the line," Kate explained.

"Valid point."

"And besides I think the fact that it was great without either of those things says something."

"Who are you and what the hell have you done to my best friend?"

"I kidnapped her and hid her away," Castle entered at that moment, causing Lanie to grin, slyly, and Kate to blush, madly. Just how long had he been standing there?

Long enough, said the smoldering look he sent her way.  
Oh God.

What a loaded look.

"First of all," he turned to Lanie, who was still grinning. "You lied about hopping a lift with Marcus's tail- they laughed at me. You, Lanie Parish, are a jerk. Secondly," he turned to Kate. "Since you shared our dirty little secrets to Lanie does that mean we can tell people?" he asked her. He was asking rhetorically and with full-expectancy of rejection- if he were being serious he wouldn't have asked in front of Lanie like that, but Beckett was not blind to the glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Oh honey," Lanie answered, before Kate could come up with an adequate placeholder comeback. Now was not the time nor place for that conversation. "If you think every person in this precinct doesn't know, you are both dumber than I thought."

And at that sassy little comment, both Kate and Castle's heads swung her way. Kate was struck once again with the urge to touch him- just have the solid human contact. She repressed those urges.

There was always the 8-floor elevator ride up.

* * *

**So? You must have read the whole thing, may as well tell me about it.**

**I love my readers and value their insight- please keep the ideas flowing in my general direction in the form of a review, PM, or email.  
I can take some criticism! I can!**

**What do you want to happen next?  
****Remind me why I write?**

**Review. **

**Love, softer. **


	14. Floors, Revisited

**This chapter is short, yes. For that I am sorry.  
But I _HAD _to stop where I did, and when you get to the end, you will understand why.**

**Thanks to Emily and Andy for being awesome and tolerating me.**

**I got a very positive response on the 'floors' style I tried out, so you may recognize that bit. Hope this one pleases.  
****So let's get started, yeah? **

**Chapter 14: Floors, Revisited.**

**

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**

**Eight Floors.**

Castle snuck a sideways glace at the detective beside him. She was on her side of the small elevator, and he on his.

She looked at him, feeling his gaze. He quickly averted his gaze, pretending to admire a spot on the steel wall behind her. She wasn't fooled for a second, but dropped her eyes to the floor.

He knew it was bait.  
He bit.  
He resumed admiring her.

**Seven Floors.**

She raised her eyes, catching him in the act. He didn't even try to play it off.

She smiled.  
He smiled.  
She bit her lip, suppressing it as well as the new feeling arising in her. It was much easier to hold her professional resolve when he wasn't giving her that look. It wasn't a look that was particularly dirty or suggestive- it was a different one. One she saw on this man about three times-

That night, on her doorstep, after the reunion.  
In the stairwell.  
And that morning, when she made the 'Alexis Monster' piece of toast art.

That look that shot right through her and all her doubts and defenses.  
It said she was the only one- in the room, in the world, in his life.  
She liked that look a whole lot more than she should.

**Six Floors.**

Before she knew it, the boundary that was 'sides' was no more and she was pulling him down by the neck to her lips. His body was flush against hers in way to many ways and far too many places. He was taken by surprise but fell seamlessly into her path of action, pinning her against the far wall with a hand on either side of her. Her hands were everywhere while she moved against him, never breaking the kiss.

**Five Floors.**

Had the elevator gained speed since the last ride? Kate swore it never moved this fast before.

**Four Floors**

Their mouths were fused together and their bodies touching at every checkpoint, her fingers were in his hair, tugging, pulling, nails utilized all the while. He continued to hold his weight with hands planted on either side of her small frame, resting only enough pressure on her to hold her body in place.

**Three Floors.**

Shit.

The realization dawns on both of them- Castle first. He stopped dead- dropping his head in a sort of defeat. Hell, he was still trying to catch his breath. Kate took a minute longer. She still pressed her mouth to his fiercely, not realizing his pause. Until she did.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, pulling away but still content to drape her arms around his neck, his arms still trapping her against the wall.

_For one thing, we are making out on the elevator. Not only am I ready to take you right here, but I think you're ready to let me. _This is what he wants to say but doesn't.

_I love you.  
_He doesn't say that, either.

**Two Floors.**

He dropped his arms to his side, standing up straighter. She helps him fix his jacket and tousles his hair into place, while he re-buttons the top buttons of her blouse and smoothed down her pants, taking extra time over her backside. She swats his arm., and then both of them step into the 'sides' bubble that encased them a moment before.

**One Floor.**

"Please don't break my fingers."

She almost missed him say it. She didn't turn, she didn't look, she just waited for the doors to open, smiling a wicked, wicked smile.

**Ding.**

She stepped off first, smoothing down her blouse almost self-consciously as she made her way to her desk. She felt the room's gaze and Castle follow her.

"Detective Beckett," Ryan walked up to her desk. He said it in a way that made uneasy. Like he knew something was up.

_Don't look at Castle, don't look at Castle._ She couldn't look at him, it would be a dead giveaway.  
So she didn't.

"The tail set up?" she asked Ryan, ignoring is ominous greeting. Ryan cleared his throat.

"Yes, plan 'trap-the-bastard' is set in motion. I'm waiting for Esposito's call now."

"Lanie says the knife is a match, there is a damn good change Matthew Gregory is our man, and I like him for it. She is working on getting a blood type off the knife- its circumstantial, but it's enough to get a warrant for something solid, like a DNA match." She rattled off. She could feel Castle beside her.

He was sitting in his seat beside her desk, emitting an energy the people across the street could probably feel. He wasn't very good at subtle, she decided. Then again, she knew that long before she made out with him in the elevator.

"The jury will love that."

"The second you hear from Espo-" her order was cut off by the shrill scream of a ringtone. Ryan unclipped his cell phone from its holder, flipped it open and held it to his ear.

"Ryan." There was talking on the other end. It was muffled, but Beckett never forgot a voice. "Speak of the devil," Ryan said, more to her, confirming it was indeed, Esposito on the other end. "We will be there in ten." And with those last words, he hung up, turning to Beckett and Castle. "Pike Street." He told her.

That was all she needed to hear.

In a flash she was up, barking orders and holstering her service piece as they made to leave. They made it outside, collecting detectives as they went, and at the car she grabbed a vest and began strapping it on, tossing Castle his without a second thought. She had managed to do so without looking at him, too.

_Don't look at Castle, don't look at Castle._ "Ryan, call in the cavalries, and make sure Esposito knows to standby until I get there." She continued busying herself inside the trunk of the Crown Vic, mostly just shuffling things around, occasionally pocketing something, but Ryan didn't move. "Ryan?" she asked.

"Yeah?" he seemed spaced out of it.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He was smiling again.

She didn't like that smile.  
Not what it meant.  
Not what it entailed.

_Don't look at Castle, don't look at Castle._

"Right. On it boss." He started off. "Oh and by the way Castle-" she had to turn full around to see him stop by Castle himself, who was strapping on his 'writer' vest.

"You have some lipstick right-" he indicated on his own face what he meant, touching right about his lip, before smiling, wickedly, and walking away, leaving Castle and Beckett to stare at each other, wearing faces of both shock and embarrassment, nothing but awkward dead air between them.

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**So you see why I ended it there?  
I hope the ending suited you.  
And I hope you weren't expecting it.**

**And I hope most especially that you review for me. **

**softer **


	15. Trigger

**Bug came up with the genius title, I am just rolling with it.  
Thank her for being awesome.**

**Emily, for keeping me on my toes, putting up with my crazy and insecurities, and most of all for being my trashcan of love. **

**And lastly but most certainly not least(ly?) to my wonderful readers- the review response truly is amazing, and your kind and encouraging words humble me.  
I am. Humbled. So keep it up? This one is for you guys. **

**Okay, get ready for my first stab at action... **

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**Trigger**

The drive was a race towards the junction of Pike and Madison.

Kate maneuvered the car with ease through the thick traffic, weaving in and out of the stopped cars and speeding through lights. And she managed to maintain a conversation with Castle the entire time.

"Kate," he said, after the silence that cloaked them became unbearable. She focused her eyes on the road, once again determined not to meet his eyes, this time for another reason entirely. "Kate." Her hands tightened on the wheel as he danced on her last nerve. Now was most definitely not the time.

"Castle," she said, through gritted teeth. She didn't want to be mad, and he most certainly didn't want her mad, so he said nothing, relaxing against the back of his seat and amusing himself by looking at the world fly past him through the window. Immediately she felt the annoyance ebbing away and her resolve softening. "Castle," she repeated his name, this time softer and laced with apology. He forced himself to look at her, and she was indeed calmer.

"Before-I said no regrets, and I meant that," he said, flashing back to the night on her couch. "I don't regret kissing you in the elevator. Not for a second." He told her. He had been sitting there the whole time thinking of a way to assure her of this, and this, of all things, was what he settled on. _And he called himself a writer… _he scolded himself, unimpressed at his lack of creative language. It was only then did she tear her eyes from the road, meeting his, even if only for a moment, absorbing his words.

And then, after a moment:

"I don't regret it either."

It was simple, yes, but it was enough. He smiled, daring to reach across the consol and touch her. It was her hand, and it was a brief comfort rather than a groping pass, so she let him for a moment, even squeezing his back, gently. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him short. "Don't Castle- you see this?"

"What?"

"It's a moment, and you're about to ruin it," she informed him, flicking her gaze back to his for a second before squeezing his hand again and taking it back, replacing it at two o' clock on the wheel. He was unable to suppress the smile that broke on his face, still looking at her through sparkling blue eyes.

It was Madison street, the green street sign said, where Beckett slid the Crown Vic to a jolting stop. Before she climbed out, she turned to Castle. She licked her thumb and reached towards him, holding his chin and using it to wipe away the lipstick stain from his upper lip. He smiled like a fool, pleased to no end, but she merely smiled, pleased at the simple actions effect on him.

She climbed out, double checking all the ties on her vest, re-Velcro-ing the front for measure. She circled the car, getting to Castle just as he was getting outside of what had become his side. She looked up just in time and planted a firm hand on his chest, the 'writer' vest rock solid under her palm. She looked at him, reading him, debating. Was there a point in telling him to stay?

She observed the hope in his eyes, as it mingled with excitement, and worry.

No, she decided, after another long moment of thought. Her hand plant on his chest quickly turned into a means to grab his and haul him along, grinning like a child, until they were mingling with the group of police officers already crowding around what looked to be a store. "Better keep you where I can see you," she muttered. She approached Esposito, still dragging along Castle. "Where are we?"

"The tail I put on Marcus led us straight to here- it's a barber shop, Brook's Barber Shop," he explained, turning from the officer he was talking with to bring her up to speed. He stopped, noticing Ryan jogging up from behind the pair.

"I looked-" Ryan stopped to catch his breath, but was still choking on it when he spoke again, breathing in choppy heaves between words. "Looked up the place-" gasp. "-It's a front that-" gasp. "Marcus and the Gregory brothers used to meet up once Marcus hit the radar and the trio were on the map. Well, quad, if you count our vic."

"So they decide to meet up at their known hiding spot?" Kate asked, skeptically. "That's the smartest move they could have made."

"Yeah, well these aren't Harvard grads we are dealing with, are we," Castle pointed out. The three around him nodded their agreement.

"Touché, bro." Esposito said.

"So are we going to sit around and gossip , ladies, or are we going to catch the bastard?" Kate asked.

"Break out the hairdryers?" Ryan asked Castle and Esposito, considering her proposition.

"I left my barrettes at home," Castle said, apologetically.

"And Sex in the City _is_ a repeat tonight," Esposito pointed out. To this, Ryan cocked his gun, letting the shell fall to the ground with a delightful ring.

"Then let's catch the bastard," he said, and the detectives, Castle in tow, approached the building, a few backup officers right behind them.

"You stay behind," she told Castle in a hushed whisper as they all hurried along. He nodded a solemn nod, looking as serious as he'd ever. She met his gaze, echoing his nod. They met a silent understanding in an eye conversation that lasted all of two seconds.

"Stack 'em up, boys," Beckett ordered, when they reached the door. Luckily the store didn't seem to be open- the blinds were drawn over the large windows and a 'closed for lunch' sign was up in the door. She stopped just before the door, slowly moving her head to get a peripheral view. Esposito, Ryan, and Castle all piled behind her in that order, the backup officers lining up in similar formation on the opposite side. "On my mark," she mouthed over to the first Officer- Morgan, she remembered, she had worked with him before.

Her gun was drawn, as were all the others, arms stock straight and ready to swing upwards for the sweep. "There may be customers in there," she warned in a whispered tone to everyone. Inside she counted down, more for her own mental benefit than anything else. She had done this a hundred times, this was no different.

**One, she counted.**

Her right index finger tapped a quick pattern on the barrel of her gun, lightly.

**Two.**

Her index finger moved to the trigger- one, two, three, four quick taps, with only slight bends of her digit.

**Three.**

Her shoulders set back and she had her thumb on the hammer, tapping, one, two.

**Now. **

She nodded to Morgan and stepped in front of the door, using extreme force and her right foot to smash the door jamb, sending the door flying open. In the officers flooded, all following her lead. Guns were raised, swinging around. "NYPD!" she yelled, loudly, to the room. She struggled to take everything in as it happened- Two men in chairs, aprons on, getting haircuts, it looked like. She hoped dear God everyone else noted the civilians. Other than that there were two hairdressers and a receptionist woman at the front desk. It was a real business- whoever was running the place must be involved. Hands flew up- everyone's, as a matter of fact, and one of the barbers actually hit the deck. She lowered her weapon slowly, keeping that one finger balanced right above the trigger. Morgan led his team to securing the room, cuffing the suspects and holding the witnesses for questioning. Beckett, however, was more concerned about the curtain that covered a hole in the far back wall- a hole that no doubt led to a back room. She led her boys to crowd it, again stacking up before ripping the curtain aside and pouring into the room. Shouts were called again, and this time it was an entirely different scene.

It was dimly lit, only a little bit of sun filtering in through a papered- over window near the ceiling. Three men, all gathered around a table, with three scotch glasses and three hands of cards on the table. Immediately Beckett recognized one as John Marcus, and the two others, obviously brothers with an uncanny resemblance, from their mug shots. They leapt up in surprise at the visit, obviously oblivious to the commotion outside. Marcus threw his hands up, one of the Gregory brothers made a run for it and the other pulled a gun.

Stupid move.

Ryan had him down in a flash, blind siding him, and with the element of surprise managed to kick away his weapon. As for the runner, Beckett made a dash after him. He had a head start as well as a home field advantage, but Kate was quicker and smarter, taking educated guesses as to where he would move next. He had to be heading for an exit and she only saw one alternate on her way in- an emergency exit to the left of the farthest wall. She bobbed and weaved through a complicated maze of appliances and construction supplies- there must have been some renovations going on in the building they shared. Although he knew the place much better than she, she managed to meet him at the emergency exit, throwing her entire body into him at full force. The tackle sent them both flying into the door, and into the push handle, sending the door open and them out of it.

They landed with a hard thump onto the sidewalk, and from the throbbing sensation in the back of her head, she landed beneath him. Still she seemed to gain her sense back first, turning them so she was pinning him with her body weight. She heard him grunt beneath her as his face hit the pavement. She applied pressure on her knee, which was now right in line with his lower spine. "Move, and it will be the last time you can move your legs, do I make myself clear?" she asked him, using the hand holding her gun to balance herself on top of him and the other to reach for the cuffs she had looped around her belt.

Just as she was pulling them out he threw her, twisting his body in a way that shouldn't be possible and force that she wasn't ready for, sending her tumbling along the pavement. She was surprised and a new stinging sensation was making her painfully aware of her chin, but she held onto her gun with conviction and when she turned around, she pointed it right at her attacker, her finger light on the trigger- ready.

He was standing over her now, and sometime in the shuffle had drawn his own Sig. 9 mil, she guessed, by the size of the barrel she was now staring down. She backpedaled in her mind, desperately searching the man above her for any signs of her best move. She couldn't find one so she jumped into the catch all and began to lower her own piece. "Hey now," she said, moving her hand from the trigger and raising it up in defense. "Okay," she said, just as slowly.

"Throw it," he spat, indicating her gun. She nodded, tossing the weapon away from herself, but away from him as well. He was unsteady- of this she was sure. He wasn't expecting this, he hadn't planned on this. Now he had her at gunpoint, and now he had to think. She took advantage of this, giving him a moment of false security before swinging a leg high, still seated on the ground. Her foot came from his left side and caught the gun, sending it flying out of his loose grip while he wasn't expecting it. In the same fluid motion she used her other leg to kick his feet from under him, sending him to the ground, hard.

A gunshot went off and she knew the bullet was a narrow miss, but she refused to think about it as she again tackled the guy, cuffing him quickly and standing him up.

Ryan and Esposito poured out of the door she fell though minutes ago, out of breath themselves, followed by a distraught looking Castle. _Damn,_ she though. _I must look really bad_.

"Wha-" Ryan began, but she said nothing. Instead she tightened the cuffs around her suspect's wrist, to the point where he cried out in pain.

"That was for pointing a gun at me," she informed him, walking him inside. Once inside the building ,where she noticed Morgan and his team carrying away the other suspects, she walked him right into the table in the middle of the room. He gasped out in pain when the table rammed into what Kate guessed was at least one broken rip. "And that was for making me chase you in these heels."

**I am really proud of my endings as of late...  
So review for me?**

**There is a link below, you just click it, type some words, it takes five seconds I promise :)**


	16. Inertia

**Thanks to the usuals- Emily, for sharing my mind and my thoughts (the latter a little creepy but awesome nonetheless). Andy, for sharing my brainwave. Susan, for threatening me into posting (I was touched, really). And to all three aforementioned for the support :) And of course to my reviewers :) the response I am getting is so awesome I can't even comprehend it, seriously. **

**Okay, now that that mushy-gushy stuff is out of the way, lets move on to the caskett kind of mushy-gushy stuff.**

** I hope everyone gets the title other than me...**

**here it is: **

**

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**

**Inertia **

Beckett charged into the precinct. Ryan and Esposito were booking both Marcus and the Gregory brothers, and she needed to prepare. She needed Joshua Gregory in the nearest available interrogation room, and she needed him in there now. She paid no mind to the throbbing headache she now had, the egg on the back of her head or the scrapes she had gathered, but focused on the case.

She would shred him apart- she was so angry she didn't even care when Ryan and Esposito traded bets on how long he lasted. She made a beeline for interrogation but was stopped by a hand clasping around her wrist. Whoever the poor soul was that just grabbed her was about to lose their arm. She whipped around to see it was Castle. He shook his head, gravely. "Castle, I need to-"

But he stopped her, he stepped a little too close to her, not releasing his grip on her wrist. It wasn't tight and she could take it back if she wanted, but for some reason she didn't. "Calm down, Kate," he told her, softly, so others wouldn't hear. "I listened to you, now it's your turn," he told her, pulling her along. She didn't want to listen and she sure as hell wasn't ready to calm down, but she followed him anyways. 20 yards and eight floors later they were in the morgue for the second time that day. Lanie was nowhere to be found, so Castle led her into the empty room and lifted her onto the nearest vacant table. She sat there, arms crossed and face set in agitation as she watched him raid the cabinets. A few minutes later he returned to her with a first aid kit.

"Castle," she began, but he shushed her, so she resumed crossing her arms in defiance. He set out the bandages and picked up the Hydrogen Peroxide. "I don't need you to take care of me, Castle," She said maybe a little more harshly than she meant to, and she could tell by the way he stepped backwards that her words stung him.

"I know that," he told her, calmly, recovering and stepping closer until he was inches from her face and well into her personal bubble. "Let me do it anyway." It was more or less a question, so she shut her eyes in a silent invitation. He doused a cotton swab before taking her chin in his hand, carefully applying it to the large scrape she wore there. She winced at first, the chemical stinging as it cleansed the dirt from her raw skin, fizzling in an almost familiar way. Too many times she had been in this position- that is, roughed up after a fight, but never like this- no, for some reason this was different.

There was no lust in the way he was holding her or desire in his eyes- just concern. Concern for her wellbeing. For some reason she found this far more intimate. "Stop fidgeting, would you?" he said, his voice hushed- the only reason she could hear was the fact that her face was inches form his. He still cupped her chin while he dabbed Neosporin on her now clean cut and sealed over it with a Band Aid. She watched him work in silence, neither of them really willing to talk. He didn't look quite ready to let go of her because he just held her there, looking for a moment longer before he bent his head and placed a kiss over the bandage.

She closed her eyes involuntarily but all too soon he was pulling away and resuming his work. He did the same thing with the wound on her cheek, peroxide, Neosporin, bandage and kiss, in that order. His lips lingered a tiny moment there, and she felt his breath hot on her skin. No words were shared, just a silence that spoke volumes. He reached into the kit and pulled out a bottle of Advil. He handed her two and she downed them, not bothering with water as she gulped down the pills, gratefully. Again he was so close she could feel his body heat radiating off of him. It may have had to do with the cold air of the morgue, but it was painfully obvious how warm he was. How nice it would be to curl up to him and around him and with him.

She fancied the idea before pushing it out of mind.

He used a moisture wipe to clean off the rest of her face- the dirt and rubble picked up from the shuffle, and taking with it some of the tension in her brow. The warmth of his body was more and more inviting, and she was finding it harder and harder to resist the urge to reach for him.

But she did.

He looked at her some more, just searching her eyes with his. She wondered what he was thinking. She wondered if he was wondering what she was thinking.

He was.

There was a lot of wondering happening.

He was nearing her again, and although she was wary she didn't move away. She said she would let him take care of her, and that was exactly what she would do. He rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes, his arms wrapped around her middle, fingers tracing patterns on her back. His nose brushed against hers, once, twice, then moved down to her cheek. The simply light touch trailed all the way down her cheek, leaving tingles in its wake. It traveled down her jaw and under it, where at last his lips met her skin with the slightest of pressure. Down further he continued, down her neck until he reached her pulse. Again he planted his lips there, but this time held it.

Beneath his kiss her pulse thrummed, her heart beating. He took a moment to relish this.

Her.  
Alive.

It beat steady and strong, something he would never take for granted. His tongue darted out to feel it, and her hand found his hair, tightening around his brown locks. Instead of perusing that line of action like they both wanted, he pulled his mouth away, content to rest his forehead in that little nook the juncture of her neck and shoulder created. He fingers still drew nonsensical designs on her lower back, easing away the tension harboring itself there.

He wanted to speak.  
To say something, to tell her.

But he didn't want to ruin it even more,  
So he clamped his mouth shut, and allowed himself to hold her a moment longer.

It was a good few minutes before he pulled away. It felt like forever and two seconds all at the same time. As he released her he caught her gaze, smiling a little before he licked his thumb and wiped away a smudge of dirt he missed before, right about her cheekbone. She mirrored his smile, understanding. "All better," he tells her, and it's the first time someone's spoken. She smiled and nodded. "Thank you," he told her, before offering a hand out to help her down from the table. She accepted, and let him pull her off her makeshift seat, but when he turned to leave the morgue, she kept her hand in his and didn't follow. He turned around, stopped by her grip and faced her, his body pulled towards her due to some sort of gravitational law he couldn't remember.

And then their lips were locked and she was holding him against her- a hand resting on his cheek. He was too stunned to move at first and it was only her, trying to show him what he was showing her. Trying to tell him that she knew. That she did, too. His senses kicked in and he managed to wrap and arm around her waist, opening up the kiss. She wanted to give in and let him take over but refused.

He said what he needed to, and he did so without a word.  
It was her turn.

There was a battle for dominance she won over with ease, slanting her mouth and thus giving her better access. She put as much meaning as she could in that kiss- tried to convey how she felt, how he made her feel.

How much better he made the situation. At last, she pulled away, just enough to break the kiss but hover, her lips nearly brushing his as they both tried to catch their breath. "Thank _you," _she told him, maintaining her propinquity.

She smiled and let herself sink into his arms for a moment, not quite ready to put distance between them. She concentrated on him around her, trying to memorize the feel of it. She found herself wishing they had that conversation earlier. The one where he realized how dangerous her job was and she set it straight. But then glad she didn't at the same time. This seemed like the closure both of them needed on the matter.

A silent negotiation of sorts.

It was then she pulled away, dropping her hand from his face and taking a step back. He grabbed her hand in his again, leading her out of the morgue. "Now go get your man, Kate." He told her.

* * *

**Fact: I don't like this ending as much compared to the others, but alas, humor was not appropriate here.**

**So I hope this chapter pleases- and I hope I conveyed my message well.**

**If it did, review and make my day.**  
**If it didn't review and yell at me about it, and still make my day.**

**It's right underneath these words, and it doesn't take time at all. :)**

**softer **


	17. Combustion

**A smut chapter. That is, if I did my job right.  
I hope it's okay…**

**It's definitely M rated, so if it's not your thing, don't read it **

**Well let's not dwaddle.  
Read, you!  
Don't forget to review.  
And or rhyme.  
Great sutff.**

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**

**Combustion**

Castle entered the observation room. It was a small room located right behind Interrogation room number four. The room's dynamic was completely different from its partner's- while the interrogation room had harsh white lights designed to emanate heat and a certain degree of intimidation, the observation room was darker, only the other rooms luminance lighting it. In fact, the only thing the two rooms had in common was a wall.

More importantly, a mirror.  
Or a window, depending what side of it you were on.

Castle took a seat- there were no chairs but only a long metal table, which he shared with Ryan and Esposito. He would have brought popcorn, but Esposito beat him to the punch, and he and Ryan sat beside him, munching away.

"Will you stop chewing so loudly?" Castle asked them. "It's about to start." If Beckett heard them now, they would probably be worse off than the man in the room. Instead of contemplating which appendage she would dismember first, he refocused his attention to the man in the next room.

Matthew Gregory was young. Not young-young, but a kid compared to the past occupants of that room. Way younger than Castle imagined he would be. He had a head of shaggy blonde hair that was begging for a cut and a long, lanky build. He could pass for a teenager, although his file promised he wasn't a day under 27. He had been pacing the brightly lit room for a good twenty minutes now, after a full two hours of sitting and stewing. He had lasted longer than most.

It is when Castle begins to think this when the door opens on Gregory's side of the window. A cool, calm and collected Kate Beckett strolled in, the door falling shut behind her with a soft click. Beads of perspiration were forming on his hairline and a vein in his temple contracted, involuntarily. She swung open the door connecting the two rooms, calmly, shutting it behind her with a soft click accompanied by the same serene demeanor. Castle couldn't see her face, as she was facing away from them, but he could envision the look she was giving her suspect. She just stared at him for a few prolonged minutes, not saying anything. He met her strong gaze, evenly. Despite his cool nerves, she could all but see the frantic energy emanating off him.

"You pointed a gun at me," she stated. It wasn't a question, and she dare not blink.

Silence.

"You tried to shoot me, and I'm going to give you a chance to correct it," she told him, simply, an eerie calm cloaking her words. She folded her hands together on the table in front of her. "When was the last time you saw Patrick Wayne?" She asked, placing a photograph on the table between them. She received no immediate reaction, but a long hard stare.

"No."

"When is the last time you saw John Marcus?"

A shrug was the only response she got that time.

"What, you're not sure?"

"No," and at this third blatant lie, Beckett stood up, abruptly. Her chair flew from under her, making an unpleasant scraping noise across the floor. She left the room entirely, slamming the door behind her, leaving Gregory alone to sweat it out. She joined Castle and her boys in the dark room behind the mirror, taking a seat next to Castle on the table. They studied him in silence, their legs swinging in cadence.

"He's lying through his teeth," She said, biting down on her lip, hard.

"You gonna go back in there?" Ryan braved to ask.

"In a minute. After I get a soda," She said, sliding off the metal table and making her way out.

She came back with a Pepsi from the hallway's vending machine, reclaiming her seat on the table, maybe a smidgen too close to Castle. She popped open the top and sipped the caramel-colored liquid, the carbonation coursing down her throat and the caffeine hitting her bloodline.

"It was awesomely uncanny how creepy-calm you got in there. Like you could just spontaneously combust at any given moment. The finale was very cool, too. You can really act, Beckett. What are you going to do now?" Castle asked.

"Let him roast. Then go act pissed. I _am _kind of pissed," she admitted.

"Kind of? I can practically feel the anger and pent up energy radiating off you! Where is this aggravation coming from? Work? Boy trouble? Is this sexual frustration you're experiencing?"

"Excuse me?" she had to bite back the comment she had sitting on top of her tongue and made a mental note to remember this moment later.

"That's a yes."

"Okay. I'm going back in." She decided to ignore his comment altogether and stood, reaching over and grabbing some of the popcorn Esposito failed to hide, popping a few kernels into her mouth before marching out as quickly as she came. This time she blew through the door, angrily, letting it slam on the doorstop and swing back belligerently.

"You were with him Friday night!" She shouted in Gregory's ear, invading his personal space. "You went to his apartment and you slit his throat, isn't that right?_" _She circled the table, whipping her previously abandoned chair back rather ferociously and sitting, her whole stature rigid. "Why did you lie to me, Matthew?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," the man said. He was staring at a spot on the wall behind her, his eyes focused and unmoving. He had a strong shell, and she could see it- years of no doubt torment and abuse had reduced him to exoskeleton. She had seen it countless times- kids with the life he must have had. But these shells were not the manmade kind. They were very, very fragile.

"No?" she laughed a laugh even she didn't recognize as her own, irony filling her voice. "Let me try and jog your memory, mmm?" She asked. Castle decided right then and there that the only thing scarier than her passive aggressive demeanor was her livid one. She circled the table again, this time stopping right beside Gregory. "You were at home. What, did you get a phone call? How did you find out? _What _did you find out? Whatever it was, it made you angry, didn't it?" She was posing her story as questions but they were anything but. "You tried to call him. You tried, over and over again but the bastard wouldn't pick it up, would he? After you got the answering machine for the sixth, maybe the seventh time, you were fed up. You threw the phone across the room and you grabbed your coat and the nearest sharp object. It was time to take matters into your own hands."

Gregory was shaking his head, and with his, his tenacity. His fingers were twitching, fidgeting, a tell Beckett didn't fail to notice. "No," was all he said. His expressionless face was clouded by anger. "No," he repeated, more forcefully, but Beckett didn't let up. She moved to his other side and continued spinning her tale.

"You knock, he answers. You force your way in, the two of you fight. You pull out the knife- it was just lying around, it's not like your brother would miss it. He just wouldn't listen to you, would he?" she asked, and she could tell with those words the last of his resolve crumbled in defeat around him.

"He just wouldn't listen!" He cried out, loudly. If Beckett was surprised she didn't show it, but just watched as the calm man in front of her folded into an hysterical murderer. "He just wouldn't shut _up,_" He was running a hand through his hair, and his fingers were still twitching with what was probably pent up frustration and leftover anger. The wave of rage subsided and Beckett watched as he rode it out. When he came to his senses, he looked up at her, still standing tall next to him. She towered over his slumped over frame.

When he spoke again, his words were not wrought with fury or frustration, but hushed, shameful and spoke with what she recognized as apology. "He just wouldn't listen."

* * *

"That was so damn _hot,_" Rick said, pushing Kate up against the door of his apartment. His mouth latched onto hers, pushing her up against the door and in turn against his body, relishing the feeling of her. She returned in equal passion, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair, needing him closer. She reacted to his touch, his hands moving up her body to hold her waist, where they became restless.

Clothes.  
She was wearing too many damn clothes.

There was a tearing sound and he had managed to get the first few buttons undone, but he was too lost in her to focus. It was then he pulled back. "We should slow down," he told her, shakily. She looked at him- was that annoyance?

"Stop being so _nice," _she told him, ridding him of his shirt in one clean motion before pulling him with extreme force towards her. That was all the encouragement he needed, and with those words let hanging in the air between them, their bodies collided once again. A trail of denim and cotton formed as they made their way across his living room. Somewhere on the steps he lost both his socks and she her top completely, then the rest of their clothes pooled outside his door.

He backed her up against the bed, his lips locked on hers as her body remained flush against his. "Castle," she says with a cute mixture of eagerness and annoyance. He dipped his head, trailing his tongue down her neck and clamping down over her pulse point, scraping his teeth over it lightly before using his tongue once again. "Rick," she says, and this time for another reason entirely. Every synapse fired in her and the gasp she released made him smile against her skin as he made his way back up to claim her lips in a searing kiss.

She was growing impatient, so she twisted them around, using her upper body strength to push him backwards on the bed. He grabbed her waist and to that effect pulled her down with him. She regained equilibrium and straddled his waist. It was like the world slowed to thirty three and a third and the fast paced passion became an unhurried affair. She bent her head over him, creating a trail of fire filled kissed up his chest, along the side of his neck, his cheek, his chin, and finally his mouth. He secured an arm around her, and inadvertently shifted her on him, her center brushing over his.

He let out an involuntary moan at the contact and it was her turn to smile. She continued her ministrations, flesh meeting flesh and teeth meeting flesh and him meeting her.

"Kate," he says, because he can't take much more. Again she smiled, and locked her lips with his before sinking on to him. He swallows her gasp and she accidentally sinks her teeth into his lower lip, but he really doesn't care because they are finally together and it feels so right.

"Kate," he says again, because he needs more. His hand trails up her back, creating soft patterns against her damp skin, contrasting the soothing action with a nip at her neck.

She knows she's going to be wearing a lot of makeup tomorrow but she doesn't really care because she's moving and he's moving and they are moving together. She is seconds from release and then she's there, on that edge, and then he's with her and they are tiptoeing around it until she decides she can't take it anymore, sinking on to him one more time before they both give in to their release.

It takes them both a moment to recover, but when they do she is snuggled up against him, draping an arm and a leg over his body, lazily. Her head rests on his chest, and she plants a kiss there as he returns to her, taking a moment longer. He is still tracing lines on her back, trying to sooth sleep into her body, making it harder and harder for her to fight its pull.

"Today was a good day," she said, smiling contently. Beneath her she felt the rumble of a laugh reverberating in Rick's chest. "What?" It was."

"She says after she has been run from, beat up, and shot at. Not to mention the verbal filleting that happened earlier in the box," he told her.

He was right, and both of them knew it. Today was not a good day, by any means. But none of that mattered, and they both knew that, too. Life happened, death happened, and in the end, she was alive and he was alive and they both proved it to each other. He planted a kiss on her temple, taking pleasure in the feeling of her beside him, wrapped around him and with him.

"You got your man," he told her, his words vibrating in his chest under her ear as he spoke. Kate after a closed case was a wonderful thing to behold.

"Yeah," she sighed the word, planting another open mouthed kiss on his chest. "And I caught that bastard, Gregory, too."

* * *

**So I know I may be dipping my toe into the kiddie pool of clichés, but the ending was too perfect to resist. I crack myself up sometimes.**

**Thanks goes to em, as usual, for putting up with my late night tendencies and craziness. For the talks. And the jokes. And the sex. What? No. (yes)**

**To Andy, for the title. Cause she rocks socks.**

**And to my lovely reviewers, you beautiful people you.  
This is probably bad, but your reviews make me write that much faster.**

**The green button.  
Whatever you do, don't press it.  
****Seriously.  
**_(but more seriously, do it. Just to see what happens.) _

**softer**


	18. Epilogue

**AN- sorry it's so long :p If you don't care, skip it.**

**I always save my ANs for last, mostly because I will think of something in the middle of writing and forget to add it in, but also because I like to think it more of a personal address to my readers, something I like to do with the ending in mind (mostly it's the first one, I'm not going to pretend to be deep here, I am forgetful). But this time, I am writing it with nothing but white space on the other side of the cursor. This, I fear, is the end. I didn't say anything in my last chapter, but it is. However perfect the last ending (I was beside myself over it, and I am damn proud), I decided this story needed one more chapter, a final say. That is why the Writing Gods created Epilogues, so here is mine. It may also have to do with the fact that I just love this fic to pieces and I don't really want it to end.**

**Thanks, first and foremost, to my readers. Seriously, all the favorites, story alerts, subscriptions and reviews, especially reviews, are what have kept me writing this 'one-or two-shot-tops,' for as long as I have, and for that, I thank you. This journey has been a wonderful one.**

**Thanks to Emily (phalangesbyfive) for being sexy, for being honest, for being helpful, and mostly sexy. And for being my number one fan, first general and trashcan of love.(and sexy). .**

**Thanks Andy (Bugg), for your creative input, your craziness, and your curse words, cause they make me giggle. Thanks Susan (insert occupation here), for putting up with me, for bribing me with fic updates, and mostly for your insane rhyming skills. Seriously. Thanks AC (), for rocking, and for keeping me in line. (and for reading, sheesh!)**

**And now, I will write the epilogue.**

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**Epilogue**

Richard Castle stood in his bedroom, slipping one arm into his jacket, and then his other. He grabbed the Italian suit by the lapels, tugging it forwards and smoothing it down, admiring the way it flattered his frame. He opened the dresser's top drawer, taking in his large inventory of ties before picking up a black bow tie and draping it around his neck, tucking the silk fabric under the collar of the white shirt. He was just beginning to tie it when a woman's voice rang out from the bathroom.

"Rick!" Kate called, annoyance and frustration evident in her voice. She was in front of the sink, using the large mirror above it to perfect her look, bare feet planted flat against the cold tile of the floor. In the mirror she saw him enter the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, smiling at her. He was looking rather smashing in his tux, the dark fabric suiting him. She couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face.

She looked stunning.  
Simply stunning.

The strapless Di Milo dress she was sporting was a light, emerald green that illuminated her eyes, a sleek fit. It fell nearly to her knees, the hemline slanting slightly to one side, the silk material all gathered in an elegant knot on the side of her waist. Her hair was done up, the long strands hanging in loose curls from a clip.

Castle took a minute to take her in, starting at her mile-long legs and resting on her face in the mirror. He couldn't tell if she was blushing or it was the makeup, but she was gorgeous. He stepped closer, abandoning his spot in the doorway to stand behind her. His hands wrapped around her waist, slowly, pulling her backwards to rest against his body. He dipped his head, finding the juncture where her neck met her shoulder and planting a kiss there. His arms made it full circle around her waist so he was holding her against him, his mouth now making a trail up her neck and to her jaw. He smiled into the caress when the moan she released vibrated against his mouth before continuing his journey until at last he reached her mouth, humming into the kiss.

The position maybe have been slightly awkward if it hadn't felt so good. She lifted an arm up to hold him onto her before the need for oxygen prompted them apart, his lips hovering over hers as they both caught their breath. He loved that she could do that.

She loved that she could do that, too.

"What, dear?" he replied, not quite ready to release her.

"Fix my damn necklace," she replied, her lips brushing his only slightly before retracting her hand from his hair and facing the mirror full on. He smiled again, releasing her long enough to scoop her necklace off the sink counter and wrap it around her neck, linking the clasp behind and letting it fall, the perfect touch.

She slipped in her earrings, her hands traveling up to her hair to redo it when she felt his hands cover hers, bringing them down to her side, wrapping them around her waist again, this time with their fingers still entwined.

"Don't," he murmured, because he was close enough. "It's perfect." He was kissing her neck again, and she let her eyes close because it felt so good.

"Stop," she said, coming to her senses. There was just enough laughter in her voice that he dared continue."We are going to be late," she said again, when he did continue. She turned around in his arms, pushing him away far enough so she could reach between them, grabbing a hold of his tie, tying it for him. He smiled when she finished, straightening it and patting his chest.

Her lack of shoes gave him a good few inches height over her, something she secretly loved. She felt his hands travel from her waist, up her back, her neck, her hair- she slapped his shoulder. "Stop it, you will mess it up," she warned him, using her own hand to check the back of her head, making sure he didn't do just that.

"That was kind of the point," he mumbled into her ear in a low voice. She couldn't bring herself to hit him again so instead opted to let loose the smile she would normally abolish and planted a brief kiss on his lips before pulling away completely, making her way to the bedroom.

Castle stood in the bathroom a moment longer, smoothing down his shirt and doing a precursory check for lipstick stains in the mirror, before joining her in the bedroom. Kate was seated on their bed, pulling on black heels.

Castle wasn't sure when his bed became theirs or the left side became hers, but it had. His closet was filled with her clothes- it was more hers than his, really. She stayed most nights, eating there, sleeping there, showering there. Last week, Castle pointed this out.

"_I just feel like you're here all the time, and your apartment gets neglected," he told her, as they washed the dishes after a particularly fabulous stir fry meal. She looked at him, eyebrow arched high on her head._

"_What are you trying to say?" she asked him, looking hurt and angry at the same time._

_She was getting the wrong impression and he needed desperately to amend that._

"_No, no- I just mean you are _here,_ and your apartment has necessary maintenance things, things you can't be taking care of if you're over here all the time, and that could be really bad, I mean- and I just feel like you're paying rent on a place that your never at, and-" he was rambling and his words were coming out in one long run-on sentence, a sentence with no perceivable end in sight. Words, the ones that have served him so well over the years, escaping him._

"_Castle," she asked, cutting off his babbling, a hint of a smile pulling at her mouth. "If you want me to move in, all you have to do it ask."_

He recalled the memory with a small smile, not even minding the last of the many brown boxes that littered one corner of the bedroom. Their bedroom. He made his way to his nightstand, pulling out his watch and closing it around his wrist before he made his way to the bed to join her.

Shoes strapped, she straightened, resting a hand on Rick's leg, warmly. "You nervous?" she asked, to which he shrugged, indifferently.

"Not really. After the first few they all kind of run together," he admitted.

Despite the honesty in the last sentence, she could tell he was a little nervous. He always was.

She honestly hadn't been looking forward to tonight- she was never really about the public party scene, but the closer the evening came the more she accepted it. Book signings, promotional parties, publishing open houses, public appearances- it was something she would get used to if it killed her. It wouldn't stop her from complaining about it, but all the same.

"It won't be so bad," she assured him. Three days ago it was the other way around. "Alexis and Martha are going to meet us there, Ryan and Espo said they were planning on making an appearance," she searched her mind, listing off the positives of the evening.

"I would much rather stay in bed with you," he told her, planting a kiss on her bare shoulder.

"Yes, well," she said, trying and failing to fight her smile. "You know what's more fun than me in this dress?" she asked him.

"What's that?" He asked, placing another kiss in the same place.

"Getting me out of it," she murmured in his ear. He smiled broadly.

"You are quite the seductress, aren't you?" he asked her, taking her laugh as his answer before leaping up. "I will go call the car-Let's get this damn thing over with."

She watched him, shamelessly admiring his build as he made it all the way to the door before turning around.

"Do you think my shoes match my shirt?" He asked her, brow furrowed as he tugged on his jacket, nervously.

She looked as his shoes, then his shirt, then his shoes again, inadvertently giving him the up-down. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get out her response, his face broke out in a devilish grin.

"Yeah," he replied, opening the bedroom door. "I see you checking me out." And with those words he disappeared into the hall, closing the door with a click behind him.

**

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**

Just as they were making their way out the front door, a little card on his door step made Castle stop short.

"That's weird," he said, picking up the card. "The mail goes through the boxes downstairs, not directly to the doors."

"What is it?" Kate asked, when he examined it closer. Even in her heels she had to crane her neck to see over his broad shoulder. When he turned to face her, he was grinning, hugely. "What?" She repeated.

In reply, he read directly off the card. "We at Rudolf Steiner High School would like to invite Richard Castle to the class of '88 High School Reunion."


End file.
